Love Polyhedron
by CityDurl
Summary: New ship. New crew. Tasha's fascination with Data takes them down a road that neither expect. Begins just after Encounter at Farpoint. Behind the scenes for The Naked Now, Code of Honor, and Haven. Episode order follows the Star Trek Chronology, not the air date.
1. Chapter 1 Part One: Fascination

One - Fascination

There was a celebratory mood forming under the subdued lights of Ten-forward as six members of the bridge crew gathered around a low table. Tasha watched Data pull a grey chair from under the middle of one side, and chose a seat across from him. _Next to him is too obvious, right?_ she asked herself. La Forge and Crusher flanked Data instead, while Riker straddled a seat next to Tasha, and Worf settled in on one end.

"It's nice to be served after taking care of people all day," the doctor commented, smiling at the retreating server.

"Busy in sickbay?" Will asked, "a side effect of the new cliff-diving holo-program?"

Beverly sank her chin on one hand. "Just a normal day at the office, dear."

Geordi smacked his hands, rubbing them together and grinning. "Two days until shore leave, people! Skies with clouds, fresh air, real food…."

"One day, six hours, thirty-eight minutes, and nineteen seconds until we arrive at Persis III," Data corrected.

"Data, what's the difference? It's the day after tomorrow – that's two days," Geordi countered. The server placed a plate of steaming fettuccini in front of the navigator. There was a clatter of plates and utensils as dinners were laid on the table.

"The difference is that we have significantly less than two days to wait before reaching our destination," Data replied, "and I am not inclined to exaggerate that wait by any number of hours."

"Are you looking forward to it, too?" Beverly asked around a mouthful. "I'd hate to hear you calculate how long we've been on the Enterprise without taking any leave."

Data opened his mouth as if to do just that, but Tasha was quicker. "I can't wait to go for a run outside. The holodeck is great, but nothing beats running by a real lake with real birds chirping in real trees." She took a two-handed bite of banh mi.

"I hope there is a lake, with fish," Will said. "Nothing like fresh-caught fish fried over an open flame."

His comment was met with groans, which immediately sparked an answering grin and flash of devilry in Will's eyes.

"That's barbaric," Tasha declared. "Poor fish. You wouldn't really kill and eat a living being, would you?"

Riker continued to grin between bites. "I would, I have, and I will. It's the only dinner my dad could ever make with any success. I put the truth of that on the fish, not the cook."

"Well, my mom made a vegan lasagna that would make you cry," Geordi bragged, winding long strands of pasta around the tines of his fork. "You'd think there was sausage in it, but no – it was just pure, animal-free goodness."

"I dream of my grandmother's vegetable soup sometimes," Beverly put in. "Just the smell of it simmering would make my mouth water."

Worf broke his wordless consumption of a heaping pile of pipius claw to rumble, "Mother's rokeg blood pie."

Tasha had been silent for some time. What could she possibly contribute to the conversation? _I searched through trash for scraps of food that other people had thrown away. I ate food that was rotten, or moldy, or crawling with insects, and fought to keep it down because I knew if I didn't, I'd be hungry again that much sooner. _She cast her eyes down and away from the replicated sandwich that was still an embarrassment of riches to her, even after so many years. A new placement always did this to her, threw her back over ground she'd covered over long ago. She hadn't yet found her footing with this crew. It would take more time to shake her reawakened insecurities. The mission to Farpoint hadn't helped – that kangaroo court had been a visceral throwback to memories best forgotten.

She tuned out of the conversation, and looked up again distractedly, only to meet Data's pale gold eyes. The furrow in her brow relaxed as she realized that Data had been silent, too. _He has even less to talk about than I do_, Tasha thought. _He's not even pretending to eat dinner tonight._ She looked down pointedly at the empty space on the table in front of Data, and then up at him with a shy smile and raised eyebrows. Data continued to simply hold her gaze, expressionless. The smile dropped from Tasha's face as she looked back into his eyes. He was doing it again – just looking at her. Why? Could Data be as interested in getting to know her as she was in him? What was he thinking about?

Tasha didn't know when the friendly banter and one-upmanship had given way to an uncomfortable silence punctuated only by the sounds of eating, but she finally stopped staring at Data long enough to notice the chagrined glances Crusher was throwing her way. "I'm afraid we might've been rude," Beverly murmured. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I can't wait to eat real food, either," Tasha said quickly. "I guess I just don't have any favorites." She picked up her fork and began dissecting her sandwich, popping a sauce-laden piece of replicated chicken into her mouth.

Still, she noticed the glances thrown back and forth between three of her tablemates, though Worf had eyes only for his dinner and Data continued to gaze calmly at herself. He was no longer looking at her eyes, though – was he staring at her mouth? Tasha licked her lips reflexively, and speared a single sprout on her fork.

"I believe that the appeal of the Vietnamese sandwich you have chosen lies in the consumption of disparate flavors at one time: salty, sweet, spicy, and umami," Data commented. "The contrasting textures are also intended to enhance its gustatory appeal. To eat each ingredient separately would seem counterproductive to that end."

Tasha looked down at the two halves of her sandwich, one, a mangled, half-eaten pile on the plate, the other pristine. "Do you want some?" she asked, picking up the uneaten half and offering it to Data. He half shrugged, took the sandwich, and opened his mouth wide enough to take a substantial bite. Everyone else at the table exchanged glances as they watched Data methodically chew and swallow, cocking his head as he did so – Beverly and Will's mirthful, Geordi's with raised eyebrows, and Worf's a deadpan curiosity.

Data finally spoke. "It is a well-approximated amalgam of ingredients that would be present as organic compounds on Earth. Thank you." He handed the sandwich back to Tasha.

"But did you like it?" Beverly asked, smothering her amusement with difficulty.

Data tilted his head and replied, "I neither liked nor disliked it. However, I do find my assessment of the proper eating method to be correct." At this, Will and Geordi laughed out loud, to Data's confusion and a furrowing of Worf's brow.

At the same time, Tasha took the sandwich back and pressed her tongue to the round bite mark he'd left behind. It was instinctive and inexplicable; what did she hope to taste? His saliva? Would it be different from a human's? Tasha quickly crammed almost half of the remainder into her mouth to cover the odd gesture she'd made with her tongue. The amused glances of her tablemates turned to her as she awkwardly tried to chew the too-large mouthful. More giggles burst from Will and Geordi, finally joined by Beverly, and offset by a puzzled look from Data.

"I am very hungry, too," quipped Worf.

They continued to chat and eat. Geordi wiped his mouth on a napkin and asked, "Tasha, why don't you go running in the arboretum? They have real trees and a little stream. It could be better than the holodeck."

"I don't know – it's so peaceful," Tasha replied, shaking her head, "and there are always so many people around. It wouldn't be right for me to go huffing and puffing past some nice couple on a quiet date."

"It is a nice place for a date." Will smiled. "Not that I speak from experience."

"The botanist is quite friendly," Data remarked. "I am sure that she would not mind you taking exercise there."

"No, it's just too quiet. I'll stick to the gym for cardio training. The arboretum is for strolling." Tasha tossed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. "It kind of sounds like a good idea right now. I'll see you all later." She got up and turned to go.

"May I join you?" asked Data, rising from his chair.

"Sure." Tasha tried to make it sound as casual as possible, but inwardly she was impressed. Data only asked to come along if he thought it would be an interesting or edifying experience. She smiled and gestured towards the door with her chin. "Come on." Data extended an after-you, and they both stepped down to the bottom level of the bar and through the swishing doors together.

"I prefer the holodeck for exercise," Worf said to his tablemates, who had all watched the two leave, nodding or waving goodbye. "A peaceful setting is . . . undesirable."

"I can imagine," said Geordi.

"I should say not," replied Worf.


	2. Chapter 2

Data and Tasha walked down the corridor side by side, their long strides matching in pace. They reached the turbolift and Tasha pressed the call pad. "Data, I'm only going to walk around in the arboretum. I'm not going to do anything really fun. Are you sure you want to come with me?"

"Would my presence disturb you?" Data asked politely.

"Of course not. I guess I'm just surprised."

Data hesitated before replying. "I find that we have much in common, Lt. Yar. I would like the opportunity to get to know you better. Humans deepen their acquaintance by sharing experiences together." The turbolift doors swished open, and the two stepped inside the empty car and turned to face the door.

"Deck 17," said Tasha, and the car swiftly moved downward.

"I thought that, perhaps, we could become friends," Data finished.

Tasha felt her heart skip. She laid a hand on his upper arm, a movement Data followed with his eyes. "I was thinking the same thing about you, Data, practically since we met." She gave his arm a squeeze, her fingers between his chest and bicep. "I'd like to walk and talk with you. I hope we can be more than just crewmates, too." Data looked from the hand on his arm to her eyes, and Tasha abruptly released him, just as the doors opened. Was that a look of discomfort she'd detected? Data courteously waited for her to exit the doors first, then strode down the hall just behind her.

Tasha's paranoia increased with each step. What if he was just being nice? What was he really after, anyway? What if he felt sorry for her, a little gutter rat unable to make friends unless pity was involved? It was all Tasha could do not to smack her own forehead with her hand. She was ascribing feelings and judgments to Data that were impossible for him to feel. She chewed on her lower lip and tried to calm down. _Countless therapy sessions, and I'm still spooked by overtures of friendship_, Tasha thought. She had gone through too many of her formative years finding friendship given, only for a demand of something in return. But Data must genuinely be interested in friendship in and of itself with her. What more could he have to gain but that?

* * *

><p>"Well, here we are," Tasha said, somewhat awkwardly. They'd been walking aimlessly along the path between thick green leaves of plants and slender stalks of flowers for several minutes without a word. She struggled to break the ice. "It's very peaceful, isn't it?"<p>

"There is the gurgling sound of a small brook that partially obscures the hum of the ship's engine. The air is ultra-oxygenated due to photosynthesis from the flora. The growing lights are warm and emit an amber color that could be considered soothing compared to most other lighting on the ship. I believe that these and several other elements combine to create an atmosphere of peace that is unique to this area."

"Mm-hmm." Tasha had stopped listening long before Data had stopped talking. "Those flowers are pretty and purple. Let's walk over there." Tasha stooped to smell a cluster of hyacinth blooms rising from a carpet of grass in the bend of a small cul-de-sac. "Mmm – they smell so good!" She sank her bottom to the ground and drew her knees up. After standing and looking down at her for a moment, Data followed suit. He mimicked her posture, grasping his uniformed knees with an uneasy, sidelong glance at Tasha.

"It's almost as good as being outside," she sighed. "It's even better, because it's safe here."

"Was being outside ever unsafe for you?" Data asked, still shifting uneasily in the casual pose he had adopted.

"How much do you know about the colony where I grew up – Turkana IV?"

"I have access to Starfleet reports dating from the first settlements through the last official contact that the Federation had with the disintegrating government."

Tasha grunted. "Then you should know that while I was there, it generally wasn't safe to be outside."

Silence fell again. The grassy little hillock was soft and smelled sweet, and Tasha uncurled her legs to lie fully on her side, nearly touching Data's feet. Data visually assessed her posture, and dropped his knees to sit cross-legged.

"So, what is it that you find we have in common?" Tasha asked, her free hand ruffling the blades of grass in front of her.

Data watched her stroke the grass and burrow her fingers into the soil beneath it. "We were both rescued by Starfleet officers. We both chose to enter Starfleet, partially in gratitude for that act."

"So did Worf. How come you're not walking in the arboretum with him?"

"I believe that you are speaking in jest," replied Data, his voice uncertain. "While I find Lt. Worf and myself to be kindred spirits, I have not yet determined the best approach to getting to know him better."

Tasha grinned widely. "Oh, you'll find a way. Worf and I were at the Academy together. Once you crack open that hard Klingon shell of his, there's the soul of a poet waiting inside."

"I trust that you are speaking metaphorically," Data answered.

Tasha laid her hand on his knee. "Of course I am, Data. I wouldn't want to find out if you could really crack Worf open."

Data looked pointedly at the hand resting on him. "I also find that you have something in common with Lt. La Forge, with whom I have begun to form a very friendly relationship."

Tasha dropped her elbow to the ground and pressed her nose into the crook. She had been feeling sleepier as the minutes went by, a result of her dinner and the quiet of the pastoral setting. "Oh? What's that?"

"You touch me," Data said.

Tasha's eyes snapped open. The feeling of approaching sleepiness was instantly replaced by another familiar, tantalizing sensation. She propped her head back up and twisted up. "What do you mean?"

"I am not speaking metaphorically."

"Oh."

"I have noticed that after I have greeted humans in the customary way, by shaking hands, they are often reluctant to touch me again." Data glanced down at the hand on his knee. "You and Lt. La Forge and Cdr. Riker do not seem to share that inhibition. Sometimes, you touch me."

Tasha felt a welter of conflicting emotions. She was as inclined to sit up straight and remove her hand as she was to run it up his thigh. In the end, she merely patted him. "I don't think you feel any different from any other person."

Data gave a noncommittal grunt, and continued to look at the hand that had gone from patting his knee to gently squeezing it.

Tasha found that her heart was beating hard and fast. It wasn't the first time she'd let her hormones do the thinking. She had no desire to ruin this opportunity for friendship, but she was succumbing to a desire to keep touching him. They were completely secluded in their flowery corner. What could be the harm? "Come here."

Data looked surprised, and Tasha instantly regretted giving in to her impulses. "Just come down here. I want to look you in the eye without looking up."

Data's face changed from an astonished expression to a relaxed neutral one, and he obligingly lay down on his side to face Tasha. Her blond bangs had fallen over her eyebrows, and her blue eyes were soft under half-lowered lashes. They looked at each other without speaking for several moments, and then Tasha rolled backwards, freeing her arms to reach out to Data's reclined form. He looked at her outstretched arms, back to her eyes, and then imitated her pose somewhat stiffly, stretching out both arms as well. Tasha wriggled forward, easing her arms around his back. He imitated her again, gently encircling her upper body. She pulled his head closer, and brought her face down to him until her cheek lay on his neck. They remained like that for several breaths, while Tasha felt her heartbeat slow and the wave of desire ebb away.

After several more moments, Data's whisper penetrated the stillness. "Is this a hug?"

"Mmm-hm," Tasha nodded against his neck, her eyes closed.

Data's eyes were open, and he could see the whorl of blond hair at the top of her head give way to the short shaved hair at her small, pert ear. His heuristic programs presented many different options for proceeding, but for several milliseconds, he felt at a loss to choose one. More information was needed.

"Is this a common gesture between friends?" Data asked, his voice still hushed.

"Mmm-hm." Tasha seemed to be falling asleep beside him.

Data chose the option that seemed the most reasonable. He carefully tightened his embrace, pulling her close enough to lie in full contact with his torso, and slowly ran his left hand from her shoulder down the curve of her back, resting it at the base of her spine.

Tasha's reaction came as a surprise. She disentangled herself from his arms and sprang to her feet. "I'm going back to my quarters. See you tomorrow." Tasha set off down the path at a dead run.

Data rose to his feet with matching alacrity, but Tasha had already disappeared. He exhaled a small sigh of exasperation and began to brush the crushed grass off his uniform.

Tasha stopped running only after she had startled two couples in passing, slowing to a double march and whacking the grass from her uniform. She didn't slow to a walk until she was through the arboretum doors, when she was finally able to notice that her legs were shaking.


	3. Chapter 3

Tasha stood in the vestibule of her quarters, jittery and agitated. She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs and tried to mop perspiration from her upper lip and hairline with the heel of her hand. She eyed her bathroom – a standard shower would feel great, but should it be a cold or a hot one?

She walked a few steps into her main living area and slumped forcefully into a low chair, legs splaying. She pulled off one boot, then the other, and hurled them both against the far wall. They hit with a loud thump and lay still.

Hothead. Idiot. Street punk. Tasha dropped her head into her hands. Slut.

The thoughts that had barraged her since her escape from the colony 12 years before overwhelmed her with shame. She wondered at the unfocused lust that engulfed her whenever any half-attractive man crossed her path. The surge of desire she'd felt at Data's gentle touch was the same feeling that washed over her when she looked into the Captain's intelligent gray eyes, or at Geordi's sensuous lips. Didn't that make her depraved? A tear of frustration wended its way down the side of her nose. When would she ever feel good and clean inside, worthy of her place on the ship, deserving, instead of merely lucky?

She remembered the day of her escape with perfect clarity. The image of the dirty, cowering, miserable girl that she had been was burned into her memory, reflected in those first looks the Starfleet away team had shown; they'd quickly covered their horror and pity with a mask of neutrality. The daily counseling that followed, the slow reintroduction to normal elements of modern society: shelter, regular food, clean clothes, a soft bed, and daily, sometimes twice daily bathing, had gradually transformed her from a frightened wild animal into a human girl. The crew had helped her recover from post-traumatic stress disorder, malnutrition, a raft of communicable diseases and parasites, and embarrassing gaps in her education and manners.

Day by day, week by week, she'd prepared herself for a life on Earth and a future career in Starfleet. Three years in boarding school, busting her hump to catch up to the other kids her age, a year at an Academy prep school, and four years at Starfleet Academy had yet never fully eradicated the trauma of her childhood. The frightened little girl lived on inside the trained Starfleet officer like a tiny caged beast, ready to leap out with a howl at the slightest pressure of a trigger thought. Suppression didn't work to still that terrified presence. Tasha's monthly sessions with Counselor Troi helped, along with an arsenal of psychological techniques meant to aid her in moments of anxiety. Therapy had so far lasted two years longer than the events that had warranted it, yet still, the most innocuous incident could reduce her to tears, or enraged, voice-cracking yells.

The trigger this time was Data's gentle, friendly caress. He had pressed her close enough for her to feel that Data really was no different from any other man, with all of the complications that fact could entail. Data was not just the innocent, childlike, gallant, deferential colleague who was a rock in a crisis and a genius at ops. He might be able to be more than her friend. She might want him as more than a friend and wouldn't that just be typical - the commitment-phobic woman with the emotionally traumatized past going after a man who was incapable of feeling any emotions at all. Idiotic.

Tasha got up with a jerk and unfastened her uniform. Shower, definitely – long and hot.


	4. Chapter 4

Persis III was the perfect venue for shore leave. The crew of the Enterprise beamed down in shifts to the banks of an enormous fresh water lake with rocky beaches and long, rolling dunes. Tasha felt happy to have her wish fulfilled, running along a path by the sparkling water and playing sports outside with her shipmates. She felt like the nervous energy that had been building up in her for the past few days finally had a healthy outlet.

On the second afternoon of their leave, Yar and Counselor Troi were exploring the small vacation town, idly walking, talking, and shopping in the quaint scattered stores. They spent a good hour in a curio shop.

"It's such a breath of fresh air to be off duty for a few days," Tasha said, turning over two colored glass boxes in her hands. They winked and shone in the sunlight, but she wondered how they'd look in the black, starry windows of her cabin.

"A welcome respite for everyone. I can feel relief from the whole ship." Deanna was browsing through jewelry on a stand, bending close to examine earrings of lustrous, twisted metal.

"I haven't seen Lt. Cdr. Data on the surface," said Tasha casually. "He doesn't know what he's missing."

"But Lt. La Forge has been here since the first day, and stayed planet-side as long as possible. I saw him swimming in that icy water with a bunch of junior engineering staff." Deanna had moved on to trying on rings.

Tasha snorted. "That had to be a bet. You couldn't throw me into a glacier-fed lake, even with a full environmental suit on."

Still, the young security chief couldn't help but wonder why Data wasn't down on the planet with everyone else. Was he pulling triple-shifts so that others could spend more time on vacation? Even if he didn't need rest, it didn't seem fair that he wasn't having any fun.

Deanna walked over and draped an arm on Tasha's shoulder, her black eyes gentle and searching. "Is something troubling you, Tasha?"

Tasha put down the little glass house she'd been holding and shook her head. "No, I've just been thinking over something for a couple of days. It's nothing."

"It's not nightmares again, is it?" Deanna's dark eyes seemed to grow impossibly larger as she tried to meet Tasha's averted gaze.

"No. I'm just getting used to a new crew, and my staff, and it weighs on me sometimes. Sometimes I think too much about something." Tasha gave Deanna's shoulder a reciprocal squeeze and moved on toward a display of wooden carvings.

"Something, or someone?" Deanna's eyes twinkled irrepressibly, and her pink gums showed beneath her grin.

"Ugh. Are you asking as my friend, or my counselor?"

"Both. You seem to be preoccupied with a matter of the heart."

"Well, put it out of your mind, Troi. I'm fine." Tasha picked up a dark wooden carving of an exotic animal with short powerful legs and long spiraled horns. "What do you think of this? It's kind of pretty, and I don't think I can break it."

Deanna looked the statue over and touched the smooth surface with her long, manicured fingers. "I like it. It looks strong yet graceful, like you."

Tasha smiled. "I'm getting it."

* * *

><p>Data strode down the corridor of deck two, having completed his watch-at-ops and closing in on his own quarters. It was early morning by the ship's clock, but full afternoon on the surface of Persis III, where most of the crew had disembarked.<p>

His communicator chirped. "Lt. Yar to Cdr. Data."

He tapped his combadge. "Data here."

"Well, when are you coming planet-side, anyway? I thought you were looking forward to shore leave." Even tinny and broadcast from thousands of kilometers away, Tasha's voice sounded high and strident over the comm.

"I was just completing watch duty and preparing to return to my quarters."

"To do what, Data? Everyone is down on the planet. Why don't you come down and join us?"

Why indeed. Data had reasoned that his recent setbacks in attempting naturalistic human interaction would benefit from more casual observations, but every invitation he had received to visit the surface with a group had been contingent on a game, or an excursion, or some other intense, shared activity that could result in his crewmates laughing at him, or staring at him uncomfortably, or running away. It was discouraging, and while he could not feel the sting of disappointment, the failure of his interactivity programs to correctly estimate the results of his interpersonal actions was a cause of great concern to him.

"I intend to perform a level one diagnostic of the plasma injectors…"

"Give me a break. Why don't you just beam down to the surface and have tea with us? The Captain is making tea for the whole bridge crew."

"It is 0500 hours," Data replied lamely.

There was a pause on the other side. Finally, "What, are you _tired_?" burst Tasha from his comm. badge.

"Of course not."

"Then quit making up excuses. Geordi and I are waiting at the debark site. Quit hiding in your room and come down. Yar out."

Data paused for several seconds with one raised eyebrow, an expression copied from a Vulcan engineer at his last posting. "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>Geordi and Tasha waited expectantly as a slim form slowly re-materialized above them. Data's face assumed no expression as he stepped down from the transporter platform set level in the long slope of a dune, but Geordi's face was gleeful.<p>

"Uniform! I toldja. You owe me an Aikido lesson."

Tasha rolled her eyes. Did Data even own civvies? She was so gullible when it came to taking bets.

Geordi was dressed for the cool breezes off the lake in rolled-up khakis, boots, and a forest green turtleneck and olive drab jacket. Tasha's outfit was similar in style, with dark blue pants also bagged and rolled at the ankles and a blue and green patterned pullover with an asymmetrical v-neck and long sleeves that belled out over her wrists. The top was formfitting and showed off her slender waist and feminine curves. She wore a grey fleece-lined sweater tied around her hips.

"Was I not supposed to wear my uniform?" Data asked, his face completely blank, without even his usual benign half-smile to enliven his features. He sidestepped down the dune to meet the other two at the bottom.

"Well, no, Data, we're on vacation. Normally you'd wear something casual." Geordi's voice was conciliatory. "Didn't you do that on your other assignments, like the Trieste?"

"My relationship with the crew was more formal on the Trieste, and as I do not require rest, I was not in the habit of taking leave." Data's eyes were distinctly downcast, and he sounded almost defeated.

"Don't worry." Tasha laid a hand on one yellow-clad arm. "There's a shop for clothes really close by. Let's get something new!"

Geordi grabbed the other arm. "It'll be perfect: a blind man and a tomboy shopping for an android. Nothing could possibly go wrong."

For the first time that day, Data smiled. They were not joking at his expense, nor had they set him up to embarrass himself. They simply expected him to have known that he should dress appropriately. Next time, he would not fail to do so.

"That's more like it. That's the lieutenant commander I know." Geordi linked his elbow through Data's and set off. "C'mon. I'll just tell the captain we'll be a little late."

* * *

><p>The tourist town was a collection of colored board structures that the wind and sun had faded to pastel greens, blues, and rose reds. The clothing shop was near the center of a group of stores with porches and screen doors, and the creaking of boots on boards and the squeaking of hinges was a constant counterpoint to the hum of the wind and murmur and shout of conversation.<p>

Geordi, Data, and Tasha made their way down the boardwalk through the town with arms linked, each enjoying the holiday atmosphere. They drew apart to clatter up the steps of the clothing shop and through the screechy screen door, to face displays of outfits and two large replicators at either end of the shop.

"Have you ever picked out civilian clothes for yourself before, Data?" Geordi asked, moving from holo-display to holo-display and occasionally touching an outfit on a hanger.

"I have worn nothing but a Starfleet uniform for several years. I have not often had reason to procure other apparel," Data replied, looking at the holo-displays with a curiosity that extended far beyond assessing the different options of clothing available.

"I'm not really good at it myself," admitted Tasha, fingering the sleeve of a navy blue jacket. "If Troi were here, she'd be a real help."

The shopkeeper made no move toward the trio. He'd had enough punchy Starfleet officers in his shop for a week, let alone three days.

"Hey, how about this?" Tasha pointed to a holo-display of a beige soft collar jacket over a brick red pullover and dark brown trousers. "Can we see this in the Lieutenant Commander's size?" Tasha asked the shopkeeper, indicating Data with her thumb.

"Of course, officer." the long-faced alien walked to one of the replicators and ordered. "Style 9-16. Male. Approximately 1.9 meters, 100 kilograms."

Geordi whistled. "He's got you pegged, Data."

The android was unimpressed. "I am 1.8 meters tall."

The outfit materialized, and the shopkeeper handed the pile of clothes to Data. "Try it on this way, sir." Data followed the shopkeeper to a curtained cubicle.

Geordi and Tasha sat down on two basket chairs near the mirrors that flanked the changing rooms. "He looked really down when he arrived, don't you think?" Geordi asked, lowering his voice and leaning in conspiratorially.

"Yes, he did," Tasha replied sotto voce, "and I think I know why. I sorta made an ass of myself with him the other day, and I think he thinks it's his fault."

"Please do not whisper about me as if I am not present or cannot hear you," Data's polite voice came from behind the curtain.

Tasha sucked her teeth. It was impossible for her to go a day without sticking her foot in her mouth.

"We're sorry, Data," Geordi apologized. "Please don't be offended. I'm just worried about you. You've been avoiding everyone for days."

"You cannot offend me," reminded Data, "unless you tell me that I do not look appropriate in my new civilian clothes." He pulled back the cubicle's curtain and stepped out in front of Geordi and Tasha.

Geordi chortled. "That was pretty good, my friend. One of your better attempts at humor."

Tasha stood up and put two hands on Data's shoulders, bodily turning him around. "You look good," she exclaimed, "and I picked that out for you!" She turned him around again. "You look better than appropriate. You look positively dashing."

To her horror, Tasha felt her face get hot. She was blushing to the roots of her hair, so she quickly squatted down to the floor, flopping her blond bangs over her face and rolling up the bottoms of Data's pants. "There," she said, patting his calf and straightening up, "you're even fashionable now."

Geordi snorted. "Like you would know."

"Oh, shut up. I'm not just some colony bumpkin. Why don't you tell Data he looks nice?"

"You look nice, my friend. Now let's go. We're late for the Captain's tea."

Data patted his hair into place, folded his uniform neatly, applied his combadge to his lapel, and turned to the shopkeeper. "Please charge the energy account of Lt. Cdr. Data on the Enterprise."

The shopkeeper grunted and opened a bag, a surly expression on his long face. Data dropped in his folded uniform and took the handles. "Thank you." The three friends clattered through the door, down the steps, and onto the paved street, Tasha and Geordi laughing at the lopsided grin on Data's face. The shopkeeper watched them leave, and then turned sourly back to his displays.


	5. Chapter 5

They sped down the paved street, Geordi half running to keep up with Tasha and Data's long strides.

"This is it," said Tasha, pointing to a butter yellow board structure with an old-fashioned swinging sign above the door. "The Marigold Inn."

Geordi marched straight up the steps and through the squeaking screen door, but Tasha put a restraining hand on Data's chest. "Wait a sec. I have to tell you something." She nervously wrung her hands. "I feel responsible…"

"I believe that my 'civvies' fit me and are flattering and appropriate. Your responsibility for outfitting me, as a shared activity, has ended."

Tasha let out an irritated sound. "Not that, Data." She paced back and forth for a moment, glancing anxiously at the curtained windows of the inn. She finally continued. "The other day, in the arboretum, you went out on a limb and told me something personal. You wanted to share something with me, and I acted like an ass. I want to apologize."

Data looked away from Tasha's anxious face, then up, then back at her, and away again. "Human behavior puzzles me to the extreme. I am still processing my impressions of our outing in the arboretum. I can come to no firm conclusions, save that human interaction continues to elude my comprehension."

Tasha threw her head back and smacked her forehead hard. "Look, just believe me when I say it was me, not you. You were perfectly nice in every way, and I acted like an idiot. Please accept my apology."

"Accepted," assented Data, the puzzled look continuing unabated on his face as he stared into the middle distance.

Tasha looked searchingly at him, her gaze shifting from one pale yellow eye to the other, and then she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Data refocused his gaze on Tasha, as neither of them had made a move to go inside the inn. "Would it be acceptable for us to hug each other again?" Data asked gingerly.

Tasha smiled with relief. "Yes, that's exactly what two human friends would do." She threw her arms around him enthusiastically, remembering too late how unyielding his body was, and drew back quickly. "Ouch."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Data asked solicitously.

"No, I just got a little carried away – I mean a little too exuberant. Let's try that again." Tasha closed the distance between them slowly, sliding her hands under the open front of his jacket and over his chest, linking her fingers behind his neck. They stood almost eye-to-eye.

Data imitated her exactly, sliding his hands over the front of her smooth pullover, brushing her breasts with both hands and linking his fingers behind her shoulders.

The blood drained from Tasha's face and her mouth fell open. They were standing with their arms loosely linked around each other and space between their bodies, but Data's upward caress had jolted her as jarringly as if he had crushed her to him. It didn't feel like a hug at all – Tasha was staring into Data's eyes in the posture of someone about to be kissed. She felt her heart racing, thumping out of her chest.

"I wanna do more than just hug you," she murmured in a low voice that surprised her almost as much as it surprised Data, whose eyebrows shot up his forehead.

Tasha muttered two fiery expletives under her breath, pulled her arms down from Data's neck, and snapped, "Let's go in. Now." She stomped up the stairs to the porch and banged through the screen door as if she wanted to tear it off its hinges.

The shock on Data's face gave way to puzzlement, to pondering, to placid neutrality. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he headed up the stairs and quietly opened and shut the screen door behind him.

* * *

><p>Inside the tearoom of the inn, the party was in full swing. Data noticed the demolished remains of what had been a tray of sandwiches, an elaborate silver tea service, and several china cups that must not have contained a hot beverage, judging by the rate at which his crewmates were knocking back the contents. Data accepted a cup from Geordi, who was slapping the back of a choking Will, convulsed with laughter over something that a wickedly smiling Deanna had said.<p>

Data sniffed the contents of his cup and raised an eyebrow. "This is not tea."

"No, this, _this,_ is whiskey!" declared Capt. Picard triumphantly, holding a cut-glass bottle of amber liquid aloft.

Data frowned. "I thought that we were having tea."

"We were. We did. We've just moved on," Riker replied succinctly, his laughing fit ended.

Data looked around the circle of comfortably seated, casually dressed mates. "Where is Dr. Crusher?"

"She left with Wesley when we broke out the real booze. But, Data – look at you! You look quite handsome." Deanna rose from her chair and circled him approvingly, brushing an invisible speck from above his shoulder.

"Thank you. Lt. Yar picked this out for me."

"Well, she has good taste."

"Well, she would like some goddamn tea at this tea party," snapped Tasha, crumbling the crust of a sandwich in her fingers.

"Just drink the whiskey." Worf's expression was jovial, terrifyingly so, as his smile revealed a row of jagged teeth. "And stop complaining."

"I don't want any," Tasha glowered, to a chorus of groans and protests. "I know how I act when I'm drunk, you know how I act when I'm drunk," stabbing a finger at Worf, "and I'm not in the mood to make a fool of myself today."

This set off a round of singing about people who spoil parties, and Data looked on appreciatively as even the captain joined in. Tasha finally smiled, begrudgingly, but was staunch in her refusal to drink any alcohol.

"Data, you never get drunk, do you?" Geordi asked.

The android shook his head. "No, alcohol does not affect me in that way."

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" Deanna asked, her eyes slightly glassy and her speech just delicately slurred.

Data considered. "While a change in the way that I perceive the world and react to stimuli would be an interesting experiment, I would not relish any state of being that would prohibit me from performing my duties on the ship."

This was met with another hail of groans and protests, and a reprise of the party spoiler song, Geordi and Riker leaping up and draping their arms around Data's neck to sing it. A shy, symmetrical smile crept slowly over the android's face.


	6. Chapter 6

"Come in."

The doors whooshed open to reveal the soft ambient lights of Counselor Troi's office. Tasha bounded through the entryway and plopped down on the mauve sectional couch, crossing her legs and settling her back into a cushioned, curved corner to obliquely face the Betazoid psychologist.

"How have you been since our last session, Tasha?" Deanna asked, her posture relaxed and open on a semicircular armchair. She leaned slightly forward from the waist.

"Okay. I'm still working out the kinks with my security staff. I command a lot of officers who are older than me, and sometimes I work too hard at trying to show them that I deserve their respect. Cdr. Riker tells me I should take it easy – everyone knows I'm qualified for my job." Tasha jiggled her right leg over her left in a jerky, spasmodic rhythm.

"What do you think you should do?"

"I don't know. I feel the need to overachieve at all times, like that will prove to everybody, including myself, that I'm more than just an illiterate gutter rat from a backwards colony."

Deanna nodded. "Why don't you believe it yourself?"

Tasha uncrossed her legs and sat up straight. "I think it's my instincts. I rely on split-second decision making all the time, and I've got a fifty-fifty chance that what my gut tells me to do is the right thing to do. But that means that half the time I'm going off half-cocked, and sticking my foot in it big time." Tasha re-crossed her legs, sank back in the corner, and recommenced jiggling her ankle.

"Tasha, is there something on your mind besides work?" Deanna leaned forward slightly more.

There was silence for several moments. "I've been debating whether or not to bring this to my session. It's not about work – it's personal. I guess – I guess it is about work, too." The jiggling grew more violent.

"Are you having a problem with a coworker?" Deanna showed no sign of reacting to Tasha's agitated state.

"Not a problem, exactly. More like an issue. But I don't know that I want it on the record."

"All of our conversations are private," assured Deanna, "unless there's a danger to the ship or to your ability to carry out your duties."

"It's nothing like that." Tasha momentarily put a hand over her eyes, then pushed back her long bangs.

Several more moments passed. "It's your 50 minutes," Deanna said patiently. "You may do with them as you please."

Tasha sighed, put a hand to her face again, and then abruptly uncrossed her legs with a two-handed slap on her knees. She stood up and bounced back down at the end of the couch, as close as she could come to Deanna's gray-clad legs.

"Okay. Here goes. I think I have an . . . inappropriate . . . crush on someone I work with." Tasha finally let out.

A crease appeared between Deanna's brows. "Starfleet has no regulations concerning fraternization aboard a Starship. If it's a subordinate, I can help you negotiate the types of quandaries that might arise."

Tasha shook her head. "It's not that. I know Starfleet considers shipboard romances none of their business, as long as all the work gets done." Tasha pulled at an ear. "It's something else."

"A superior?" Deanna kept her face completely neutral.

"Worse than that." Tasha started to regret her confession. Though getting the words out had at first brought an immediate sense of relief, that feeling was slowly being supplanted by a growing dread of humiliation.

Deanna blinked for a moment. She went into full-on work mode, emptying her voice of any hint of accusation. Her question sounded as provocative as a comment about the weather. "A member of the bridge crew?"

Tasha hid her face in her hands. Deanna reached out to put a hand on the black and yellow curve of her back.

"I feel so stupid and out of control," came Tasha's muffled voice from between her palms. "Everybody knows that you and Riker have a history, yet you always behave like perfect professionals around each other."

The elegant, manicured hand stroking Tasha's shoulder blade stopped for a split-second before Deanna recovered. "That's not exactly true. I've had a couple of moments when my feelings for Will superseded my sense of responsibility at the time."

Tasha lifted her face. "D'you mean like during the alien's attack on the Bandi city? At Farpoint? That was for about two seconds, Troi. And I was freaked out, too – I think I was crying when we beamed back aboard the Enterprise."

"Well, it had been a rough mission."

"You can say that again." Tasha sat up and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. "But that's part of my problem. That first mission, I had moments of pain and fear, and he was never shaken or disappointed in me. When I was scared, he was calm, and just gave me these looks that were so reassuring, like everything was going to be all right. And, eventually, everything was."

Deanna's black eyes widened despite her emotional brakes. "The Captain?"

Tasha leaned back against the curve of the couch. "No, though that's not so farfetched. If there's anyone onboard with daddy issues, it's me." She leaned forward again. "Troi, could I get a cup of coffee?"

Deanna raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think you need a stimulant right now?"

Tasha frowned. "I just want something hot to drink."

Deanna got up and crossed to the replicator embedded flush with a cabinet in the mint green walls of the office. "Hot chamomile tea," she ordered, with a significant glance back at Tasha. The lieutenant rolled her eyes. Deanna pulled the materialized cup of pale steaming tea from the slot and placed it on the table before Tasha's once again jiggling leg.

"Thanks, Troi."

"Continue, please."

"No, I've thought better of it," Tasha said darkly. "It's just another case of me following my instincts, even though they might lead to a bad outcome." She reached for the teacup and began slowly revolving it between her hands. "It's just that, from the moment I met him, I felt this connection. I'd read all of the personnel files, so I knew that we were both orphans, both from colonies that had been destroyed in some way, and both repaying a debt to our Starfleet rescuers. But then, meeting him in person, it was like nothing I'd expected – I felt drawn to him, like I wanted to have him in my life."

"Worf?" The incredulity escaped from Deanna in her voice and expression.

"Worf and I were friends at the Academy, Troi," Tasha scoffed. "That's like asking me if I have a crush on my brother." She took a slurping sip of her tea. "No, it was on our way to Farpoint Station that it turned into a full-blown infatuation. At that horrible trial that that maniac Q put us through, when he froze me, I thought I was going to die. Sudden hypothermia, and then everything went dark. Then when I came to, he was holding me and staring at me with such concern... I wanted him to keep looking at me that way, even in the midst of that terror."

Deanna had completely regained control of her reactions. Her face was inscrutable as she said, "Data."

Tasha slammed her cup on the table, sloshing hot tea on its mottled gray surface. "Look, I know it's stupid. I know. He can't feel anything for anybody, and never will. I know that it's probably just a product of my fear of intimacy. And I know that it's a terrible idea to flirt with someone I work with every day." She looked straight down at the floor with her hands between her knees. "But the thing is, I have been flirting with him, and he responds, well, he responds…." A long sigh escaped her. "Well, he's not human. He's trying to act like a friend and do what's expected, and I don't think he realizes what an awkward position I've put him in. He's totally innocent and following my lead, and I'm leading in two directions at once. At least." Tasha covered her face with her hands. "Or in a circle. Spiraling down the drain," came the muffled end.

Deanna looked at the tea seeping slowly over the edge of the table and the choppy layers of Tasha's yellow hair, the top of her head the only part of her facing Deanna, and waited for another outburst. The turmoil she sensed from Tasha was so strong, the Betazoid was sure she'd continue to pour out her heart. But no more was forthcoming. Finally, Deanna was the one to speak.

"Tasha, I think you already know what the right course of action is going to be." Deanna moved to touch Tasha's still down-turned head, but thought better of it and let her hand drop back to her lap. "You told me last month that in the chaotic world of your childhood, you usually knew what the right thing to do was, because it was the hard thing to do."

Tasha lifted her face, her blue eyes shiny with unshed tears. She met Deanna's compassionate gaze.

"You know that Data is eager is to please, and questing to understand us better, and trying to emulate human life as best as he can," Troi continued. "Would it be right for you to take advantage of that, and lead him into a relationship that would be inherently ambiguous, and difficult even for two humans to navigate?"

Tasha swallowed hard, her lashes wet, and shook her head no.

"You have to consider that Data's emotional unavailability may be his chief appeal to you. He may seem like a safe choice: someone who will never lie to you, or intentionally hurt you." Deanna softened her voice to ease out the words. "But he can never love you. Any romantic relationship that you would attempt with him is likely to be unsuccessful, and you would be left working together every day, reminding each other how you failed to connect."

The silence that fell was bleak, tense. Tasha blinked away the tears that glistened in the corners of her eyes. She felt as if she were holding her breath. Finally, she stood.

"All right." She smacked her fist into her hand. She covered her mouth and took a long, sibilant breath through her nose. "Okay." She folded her arms formally behind her back. "Counselor, please don't mention this to…"

"You don't have to say that, Lieutenant. It's confidential." Deanna stood up and led Tasha to the door.

Tasha nodded. She felt overwhelmingly sad.

"We'll talk again in four weeks," said Deanna gently.

Tasha stood before the doors. They swished open, and she passed through without a word or a backward glance.

Deanna stood staring at the doors for a few seconds after they closed. She turned, picked up a napkin from the shelf below the replicator, and walked to the low table. She started mopping up the fragrant spilled tea that was darkening an irregular circle on the carpet.

* * *

><p>Tasha strode briskly through the hallway, her blonde hair flapping in rhythm to her rapid steps. She reached the turbolift, which opened almost immediately to disgorge two security officers. Tasha nodded curtly to them and stepped inside. "Deck 12." The turbolift hummed to life.<p>

The doors opened, and Tasha swiftly walked through them and around the corridor, barely acknowledging the nods of the crewmembers she passed. She stopped in front of the entrance to the gym, used four fingers to press in her access code, and entered as the doors swished open.

She looked from machine to machine in the large main room, darting her square chin from one direction to another, inwardly rejecting the treadmills and other cardio equipment after a cursory glance. Too tame for what she needed. She passed through the room at the same breakneck pace she'd used in the hallway, deftly avoiding stacks of weights and balance forms and taking a tight turn into the gymnastics studio. She stepped to a mat and dropped to the ground, pulling off her boots, and then stretched her arms and legs into a long, lean column. She moved through stretch after stretch for several minutes, before bounding lightly to her feet and approaching the uneven bars.

For the next hour, the only sounds in the studio were the grunts from Tasha's mouth and the twang of her hands and body on the equipment. Twice, a new person entered the studio, but the blaze of Tasha's eyes and her grim expression as she flung herself about was enough to clear the room.

Finally, she hung straight-armed from the top bar, lungs and muscles burning, her uniform dark with sweat. She dropped down to the mat, panting heavily, and lay prone. The rage and shame were still there, but now she was too tired to really feel them. Still, as Tasha hiked one leg over her head to begin her cool down, she felt tears mixing in with the salty perspiration in her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

A pall had fallen over the clusters of people gathered in Ten-forward, and the somber group of bridge officers seated around a long table gave off no different feeling from the general malaise. Riker's attempts to lighten the mood had failed, and the seven crewmates ate mostly in silence.

"Everyone on board must know about our mission," said Deanna, spooning up the last of a clear broth soup. "The mood is very tense."

"Psych problems," Geordi added. Everyone nodded – it was bad luck to even joke about the dark implications of those words. "It's bad enough to head to a mission where you might have to fire a phaser."

"It's an enemy you can't shoot at," finished Tasha. Her sandwich was mostly picked at, scarcely eaten. "How do you fight something you can't identify?"

"No one said we were going there to fight," replied Will levelly. His expression was cool, but his plate of stew was also mostly untouched.

Wesley touched his mother's arm. "Mom, I have to get back to work on my physical sciences project. It's due in three days." He was the only one who had eaten heartily; his dinner and desert plates were clean.

Crusher nodded to him, and Wesley rose from his chair. "We're going to go," Beverly said. "Good night, everyone. Good luck tomorrow." She got up from the table and followed Wesley from the room.

"I might as well head out, too," said Geordi, pushing back his chair. "I'm pulling a double shift to check the navigational deflector and sensor arrays. Once we're in the vicinity of that red super giant, we can't afford to have those systems malfunction." Geordi stood and pushed his chair under the table. "It's gonna be a long night." He waved and stepped down to the exit.

"The Tsiolkowsky must have collected some interesting information about the collapsing star," Data offered. "Perhaps some of it will prove valuable."

"Way to look on the bright side, Data," replied Riker. "Keep up that attitude tomorrow – we'll need it." Will turned to Deanna. "Care for a friendly chess game?"

She nodded. "Sounds good. I need something to clear my mind. Beating you should help lift my spirits."

"We'll see about that," Will countered. "Excuse us." They rose and walked up to the windows of Ten-forward, sitting down again at a two-top with a 3-D chess set.

Back at the table, Data turned to Tasha. "You have consumed very little of your dinner. Are you experiencing a loss of appetite due to heightened anticipation of our mission tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm nervous because I feel like I can't adequately prepare to secure the ship. I don't know what we're up against. The reports are very confusing." Tasha poked at her sandwich, but didn't otherwise move to eat any more of it.

"Would a game of chess help clear your mind?" Data asked.

"Against you? Not likely. I don't want to play Deanna, either. Chess is not my game. I prefer something physical."

Data nodded. "I have noticed that you use physical exercise as a method of alleviating stress."

Tasha furrowed her brow. "You have? When?"

"After our mission to Farpoint Station, you spent 2.6 hours rock climbing in the holodeck. Before the first evacuation drills, you sparred in an advanced jujitsu routine for 58 minutes. After the drills, you led two Tae-bo classes for 75 minutes apiece in holodeck four. Because these bouts of intense physical activity fell outside of your regular fitness routine, I surmised that you undertook them in reaction to stressful events that had occurred just prior, or just after."

Tasha's blue eyes were wide. "Data, that's amazing – and a little creepy. How did you know about all of that?"

"As part of my duties as chief of operations, I must analyze the energy output of all nonessential ship functions, including the holodecks. A human officer would most likely note only the time elapsed and total energy expended for any given day, while discarding the other, irrelevant information. I, however, am able to retain all of the non-relevant data." He hesitated. "That is creepy?"

Tasha still looked nonplussed, but shrugged it off. "No, it's not, I guess, not when you put it that way. And anyway, you're right; I like to work my body when I feel stressed out. It helps me relax." Tasha rested her chin on the back of her hand. "I've noticed that you tend to imitate behavior that you've recently seen, like offering to play chess with me after Will and Deanna did." They both turned to look up at the top of the room, where the two in question were talking and smiling as they played, though the sound of their conversation did not reach Tasha's ears.

"That is true. It is a technique that works for establishing contextual guidelines for future interactions. I prefer to experiment immediately, once I have defined a set of limits."

Tasha shook her head. Sometimes it was exhausting, talking to Data. Suddenly, she realized that she had stopped worrying about the impending mission. A little smile brought out her dimples. "What else have you noticed about me?" She asked lightly.

"While several of our shipmates cut their hair at four- to six-week intervals, you cut and shave your hair approximately every three weeks," Data offered.

"That's true; I do. I don't like it to get very long." Tasha pointed to Data's head. "You keep your hair slightly long in back, and it's never out of place."

"I employ a hairbrush. You paint your eyes and lips before bridge duty, but never your fingernails."

"You use both hands at ops, but you favor your left."

"You never wear jewelry off-duty."

"You never use contractions."

"Your ears stick out slightly, in a way that is very . . . Tasha-esque."

That pulled her up short. She'd never heard him use her first name before. "Data, you can't notice any of those things by looking at files."

"Agreed," replied Data.

"You can only tell them by looking at me," Tasha continued.

"Also true."

They looked at each other for several moments.

"Sometimes, I catch you looking at me for a long time," Tasha's voice was lower now, and quieter, "almost staring."

"'Catch' implies that I do so covertly. I do not," replied Data. He had also modulated his voice to match her quiet volume and lower pitch.

"Well, why do you do it?" Tasha was looking into his eyes. They weren't just gold; there was also beige and blue in the iris, depending on how the light hit them. His eyes looked so serene, under thick lashes that were pale and dark at the same time. The serenity was gone in the next moment, as a puzzled look crossed Data's brow. He looked down, and away, and back at Tasha.

"I am imitating you."

Tasha was taken aback. She quickly played back in her mind all of the times that she could remember over the past two months when her eyes had met his penetrating gaze. Come to think, she did spend a lot of time looking at him when she wasn't doing other things: his eyes, his face, his hands, the way his uniform fit his . . .

"Oh," she said aloud.

"Should I stop?" asked Data.

"No," replied Tasha, "I like it."

Will and Deanna, walking past on their way out of the room, presently joined them at the table.

"Who won?" asked Tasha.

"Who do you think?" replied Will.

Data and Tasha looked at each other. "Counselor Troi," they said in unison.

Will looked from one to the other and gave a shrug. "Goodnight," he simply said, and walked to the doors.

Deanna smiled like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Goodnight," she said sweetly, and stepped down as well.

Tasha sighed wearily. "I should go back to my quarters and go over the security details for tomorrow."

"As you wish. Goodnight, Lt. Yar."

"Goodnight, Data."


	8. Chapter 8

It was dark in the cabin, the stars flashing by outside obscured by black screens over the sloped elliptical windows. The omnipresent pulsation of the engine was an undercurrent sound, below the soft, rhythmic inhalation and exhalation of the sleeper. A pinpoint of light began to shine through the darkness, widening to a blue-tinged sliver. The arc of illumination grew brighter and larger with each passing second, still brighter, creating a halo of luminescence around a now visible small metal box on the bedside table. The circle of light continued to grow, now falling on the parted lips and slack cheek peeking out from under a brown suede blanket. Tousled hair, bronze in the darkness, fell over smooth eyelids and long lashes that began to show a hint of fluttering. A low vibration started to emanate from the silver, round-edged box.

"Augh!" Tasha sat bolt upright in bed with a strangled scream. She panted as she looked around her bedroom, her eyes quickly adjusting to the obscurity. She let out a whistling breath through pursed lips.

"Computer: lights. Dim." The interior of her sleeping area popped into focus. Tasha rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the flat of one hand.

"Open shades." A barely audible whirr accompanied the retraction of the black shutters. The winking and disappearing of the stars outside told her they were still in warp.

She reached over to her bedside table and stroked the brushed metal surface of her alarm. The soft illumination and buzzing vibration instantly ceased. Tasha looked at its unassuming form: the alarm had been a Starfleet Academy graduation gift from Worf. It was almost a gag – a reminder that Tasha had been the only freshman they'd ever known of to be assigned to a single room from her first year, after she'd punched her roommate in the stomach and broken a suitemate's jaw, just for trying to shake her awake. She'd ostensibly done the damage in her sleep; the only fact that had saved her from expulsion, but that didn't help her reputation at the time in the least. It was evidently an instinct one couldn't un-train – the ability to fall asleep or wake up in an instant, ready to defend oneself. The typical beeping or pinging or musical alarms available standard issue from the computer provoked the same kind of reaction that had marred her record in that first year at the Academy, so gag or not, the sophisticated alarm was one of the most thoughtful presents she'd ever received.

Still, the violent awakening was a part of her every morning. It was the reason why she kept her sleeping area almost completely unadorned, and why she'd insisted on the installation of a second, separate door when they'd assigned quarters on the Enterprise almost three months before. She kept the doors to her bedroom locked at night, partly for her own sense of safety, partly for the safety of the crew.

Tasha threw the blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked at the time on the padd embedded in her nightstand: 05:32. Plenty of time to get in a good workout before reporting for bridge duty at 0800 hours. The mission briefing was scheduled for 0830, and the rendezvous with the Tsiolkowsky less than an hour after that. She padded barefoot into her bathroom and started getting ready for the day.

* * *

><p>The senior officers seated around the table in the observation lounge showed no outward signs of the trepidation that had overcast their evening meal the night before. It was game time, and seven cool professional faces regarded Riker as he continued his briefing.<p>

"We've further ascertained that no external force is the cause of the disturbance on the Tsiolkowsky. Once we're in range, we will try to re-establish visual contact and see if we can't make some sense of the audio messages we've been receiving. If that is unsuccessful, we will proceed with primary contact via a four-person team. Lt. Worf, you will take over at mission ops while Cdr. Data is thus engaged."

"Aye, sir."

"Away team will conduct a standard search sweep. I trust that everyone has had time to study the schematics of the science vessel. Any injured or otherwise incapacitated crew will be beamed directly to sick bay, with counseling standing by."

"Aye, sir," chorused Crusher and Troi.

"Mr. Data, you will download the research gathered by the Tsiolkowsky to the Enterprise computer and analyze it for any correlation between recorded stellar activity and the trouble on the ship."

"Aye, sir."

Riker turned to the captain. "With luck, we'll reach the Tsiolkowsky in time to evacuate the survivors and unravel the mystery of the threat." Riker took his seat.

The captain leveled his gaze at each of his senior officers in turn. "Our top priority is to prevent any further loss of life than what has already been shown by our sensors. Our second objective is to obtain the information the Tsiolkowsky has gathered on the collapsing red super giant star. Our third: to secure the science vessel, and eradicate whatever aggressor is working detrimentally on the crew." Picard gave an encouraging smile. "And through all of this, I want the lines of communication open and free-flowing. We won't be taken by surprise if we stay alert, immediately report any developments of interest that we encounter, and respond quickly. I have the utmost confidence in all of you. Dismissed."

They got up as a body from their chairs and passed through the exit and into the corridor, heading back to the bridge. Dr. Crusher continued on to the turbolift, while Tasha took her place at tactical, Worf behind her at mission ops. She looked over her shoulder and caught his eyes. The tall Klingon gave her a nod. Go time.

* * *

><p>It was ghastly aboard the science ship. Although Tasha hoped never to become numb to the sight of death, despite how much of it she had seen, the corpses aboard the Tsiolkowsky evoked a revulsion in her that was disturbingly intense. <em>Some of these people were alive just an hour ago<em>, she thought. _They all killed themselves. What makes someone – everyone – throw a wild party and kill themselves?_

The away team was keeping their comm lines open, and they'd found the same scenes played out over and over again: Starfleet scientists, engineers, operations and security officers, naked, in flagrante delicto, frozen, beaten, auto-asphyxiated, drowned, all dead. Tasha was taking tricorder readings while the hairs stood up on her arms and neck.

"Geordi, Tasha – have you completed your searches?" Riker's voice sounded over her combadge.

"Just entering stellar cartography, sir. Last area for me." Tasha stepped over three naked male bodies, frozen solid, connected mouth-to-body parts that she didn't want to describe aloud. "Same situation here, sir. No survivors."

"I'm completing my sweep of sick bay, sir," Geordi's voice announced over the comm. "No change, though the medical staff got really creative in here."

"Acknowledged. Regroup at the transport site in ten minutes." Riker turned to Data. "Can you get anything from the ship's logs?"

"Negative." Data's face was bathed in the green glow of the Tsiolkowsky's library computer. "The log entries exhibit the same lack of coherence and structure as the audio reports we received on board the Enterprise."

_Damn,_ thought Riker. The mission was not going well, and he had a nagging suspicion that he was missing something obvious.

Upon reconvening, the four members of the away team debriefed each other, and were now awaiting further orders from the captain in a science lab littered with the incongruous detritus of a bacchanalian party.

"I didn't have breakfast," said Geordi, "and I don't think I'm going to be able to eat lunch. I've seen some things today that I will never un-see."

"I didn't eat breakfast either, thank goodness," replied Tasha. "One look at those people who'd dived headfirst into the aquarium and I'd have experienced breakfast all over again. In reverse." She shuddered.

"The only people we found wearing clothes were the ones under water," remarked Geordi.

"Mm-hmm. Everyone else died in the buff. For a bunch of scientists, though, they were all pretty fit." Tasha didn't smile as she joked, and Geordi didn't laugh.

"I can't believe we haven't found one clue as to why 80 trained Starfleet officers turned into sex-crazed suicidal maniacs in a matter of days," Geordi declared.

Data noticed that Cdr. Riker did not engage in the gallows humor of his fellow officers. He had noted that the commander's usually jovial nature was supplanted by a stern military bearing whenever he was in charge of a mission. During his years of service, the android had observed his human shipmates making light of a grim situation before, and he had been told that such banter was not in disregard to the seriousness of the situation or disrespect to the dead, but was a coping mechanism to help them deal with the horror at hand. Data wondered which style he should emulate in the moment.

They were all visibly relieved when the captain's voice spoke through the comm. "Enterprise to away team. Beam back aboard and report directly to sick bay for medical evaluation."

"Aye, sir." Riker watched as his three officers moved into formation beside and behind him. "Energize."


	9. Chapter 9

"Clean bill of health." Dr. Crusher replaced the probe into the top of her tricorder and nodded to Riker, who lay supine on the biobed. "You may return to duty."

"Thank you, Doctor." Will flashed his disarming grin. "Hope my next checkup is just as routine." He pushed himself upright and swung down to the floor with vigor. They were all making attempts to regain their good humor. "You're next, Yar."

Tasha hopped up on the bed and eased herself down flat, relaxing her arms by her sides and breathing evenly through her nose. Crusher aimed her tricorder and passed the probe slowly above and around Tasha's prone body. Being scanned felt like nothing at all, but nonetheless, Tasha was often beset by irrational worries about it, as if the readings could show that her stomach was rumbling or that she'd forgotten to take her pill yesterday and had had to take two today.

"Fit as a fiddle," pronounced Dr. Crusher. "You're free to go."

"You may return to the bridge, Lieutenant," said Riker.

"Gladly, sir." Tasha hopped down from the bed and headed out of sickbay.

_I wonder if I have time for a bite to eat_, thought Tasha, turning the corner of the corridor and touching the pad of the turbolift door. _What I wouldn't do for a cheese and tomato sandwich right now._ The doors opened and she stepped inside to join two red-uniformed junior officers. She returned their nods and turned to face the door. "Bridge." The turbolift whirred into motion. _Probably not, right? Maybe I can snag a break in the lounge in a few. The mission's off to a shaky start, but I can't see it getting much worse._ The car stopped and the two young command officers exited. Tasha watched the pulsing lights of the turboshaft alone.

"Lt. La Forge has been confined to sickbay," the captain informed the lieutenant as she took her station at tactical.

"Is he sick?" asked Tasha with concern. Geordi had seemed fine to her.

"Unknown."

The aft turbolift doors opened, and Cdr. Data stepped onto the bridge, taking a seat at science two. The crew worked silently for a time, the giant red star on the viewscreen an ominous portent.

The static calm on the bridge was finally snapped by Dr. Crusher's panicked announcement that Geordi had disappeared from sickbay. Tasha instantly gave voice and keypad orders for a ship-wide search. _Damn it! Why didn't I stay for just a minute longer?_ she berated herself inwardly. _I would've told Crusher to put restraints on La Forge, or a quarantine field, or at least I would've put a security detail by his bed. _Tasha saw no incongruity between the fact that Geordi was her friend and that he should be restrained – she would have ordered the same treatment for herself.

Time passed agonizingly slowly. The security chief left her station for a few minutes to hit the crew lounge, but found her appetite once again gone. She changed places with the relief officer and leaned both hands on the wooden surface of the tactical console. "All security teams: report."

"Ensign Jae on deck 12. No sign of him, sir."

"Lt. Peters on deck 10. Not here, sir."

The reports came in like a feedback loop from a faulty holo-recording. Geordi wasn't hiding, was he? It was a big ship, but she had more than 50 officers searching deck by deck for one blind guy. How hard could it be to find him?

"Has anyone checked his quarters?" Tasha barked.

"Jackson here. We've searched the lieutenant's quarters and the rest of deck two. All clear."

Tasha smacked her console. Was she going to have to search the Jefferies tubes?

And then it dawned on her: what if he'd headed back to home base? She keyed in a request for relief and walked quickly to the aft corridor, her uniformed replacement seconds behind her at her station. Tasha looked in the head first – no one inside. She doubled back and entered the observation lounge, immediately checked in her rush through the door.

There he was, gazing out at the stars.

* * *

><p>Tasha left sickbay after depositing Geordi under the watchful eyes of two security officers and the doctor's worried ones. She'd briefed the captain and now she was determined to get some food; it must be hunger that was making her sweaty and lightheaded. She touched the pad to call the turbolift for what felt to her like the hundredth time that day. When the doors opened, she stumbled slightly as she stepped inside. "Gotta eat something now," she mumbled under her breath. Then, louder, "Deck 8."<p>

By the time she'd reached her quarters, Tasha could barely remember how she'd gotten there. The lightheaded feeling was turning into euphoria, somehow, and she smiled unabashedly to herself. Tasha entered her own door, swaying slightly, and toddled over to the replicator.

"Cheese and tomato sandwich. Extra tasty." There was a shimmering whirr, and the sandwich appeared in the slot.

"Yum. Yummy, yummy, yummy, yum," Tasha sang tunelessly to herself as she took the plate from the replicator. She flopped into a chair at her dining table, rocking it slightly, and started wolfing down her sandwich with large, hurried bites. In a few minutes, the sandwich was gone and the lieutenant was licking the crumbs from her fingers. She wiped her hands on her slim belly.

"Need coffee." Tasha got to her feet with a lurch, tipping over her narrow gray chair. She doubled over in a fit of giggles. "Clumsy!" Tasha reached over and righted her chair. She leaned her head against the wall next to the replicator. "Coffee. Black. Hot." The steaming mug that appeared looked so appetizing. Tasha stuck her forefinger into the brown liquid and then into her mouth. She was overcome by another fit of giggling, distorted by the finger on her tongue. She pulled her finger through her pursed lips with a loud pop and then wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She was suddenly hot all over – why had she ordered hot coffee?

"Ice cubes - three grams." They appeared in a clear cup that Tasha overturned into her coffee mug, fishing one back out with her fingers and running the cold wet surface over her neck and throat. _So hot – need to get out of these clothes, find something cool to wear.'_ Tasha's thoughts oozed slow and murky through the haze that was thickening in her brain.

Gripping her coffee mug in one hand, she sidled over to her interior living space and touched the locks on her drawers one after the other. "Uniforms…undershirts…parrises squares uniform…pajamas…workout clothes…karate gi…Mok'bara gi…." Tasha gave a grunt of dissatisfaction and keyed all of the drawers shut again. She took a large swallow of coffee and crunched loudly on an ice cube, looking distractedly around her room. Rifling her closet was equally unfruitful – pants, sweaters, jackets, overalls, all sturdy and functional, all meant to keep her warm in the regulated recycled air of the ship.

Tasha took another gulp of iced coffee and admiringly examined her cup. Whatever was in there, it was making her feel goooooood.

An idea struck her – what about Troi? Deanna wouldn't mind if Tasha played dress-up in her closet, would she? With another fit of giggles bubbling out from behind her closed lips, Tasha dropped her mug on the table and sashayed out the door.

* * *

><p>Even though she'd still been unable to find something to wear, Tasha felt ebullient. Deanna hadn't minded Tasha's ransacking of her closet at all, just like she'd guessed. Tasha smiled sentimentally to herself. Deanna was sooo sweet. Tasha just loved her soooo much. Even though they were nearly the same age, Tasha looked up to Deanna as a mother figure – not that she knew what it was like to have a mother. A thought suddenly struck her – who was that guy she'd just made out with in the hallway? And where did he go? That was totally fun.<p>

Tasha found herself at the door of the replicator center and clapped her hands. "Oh yeah! That's where I was going!'' She entered with a free-swinging waggle of her hips.

Tasha looked at the keypad of one of the heavy-duty replicators, baffled by the complex display. Now, where had she seen something like that before? So many pretty colors… She shook her head, as if to clear the fog that had settled in it, to no effect.

"Computer, I need something cool to wear. Cool . . . and sexy." Tasha gave the console an encouraging pat. The display began to click through a fast-moving battery of outfits. Too fast. "Slow down, computer. You hurt my head." The pace of the changing images slowed by half, and Tasha watched, squinting her eyes and wrinkling her nose as if she'd smelled something bad.

"Computer, these are dresses. I don't do dresses. Show me something sexy with pants. And slow down."

The images scrolled by much slower, and Tasha smiled and sighed in admiration as one outfit after another appeared and disappeared. Finally, her squinting eyes popped open. "Halt!" she squealed. "That's it. Reference measurements for Lieutenant Natasha Yar and construct."

Within moments, she had her arms around a top, trousers, and sandals that she squeezed in an excited embrace.

"Now, to do something with my hair…."


	10. Chapter 10

The walk from the turbolift through the corridors on deck eight had brought interesting, unexpected sights to Data's eyes. The doors had opened upon a civilian pair, male and female, engaged in what was deemed both by Starfleet regulation and general human tradition a private activity. Data had edged past them and set off briskly on his way. A turn around the corner revealed a trio of uniformed human males, two pushing back and forth at each other while one stood between them, holding the other two at arm's length. The two shoving men were alternately laughing and yelling with equal vehemence. Data skirted past the three and pursed his lips. _There is ample evidence to support Captain Picard's assertion that the virus is spreading, _he thought.

Along with the thousands of programs that regulated his body functions and automatic processes, Data was running, as usual, a small number of programs that operated within his higher brain functions. One was an ongoing analysis of the information gathered from the Tsiolkowsky; he was seeking a correlation between the collapse of the star and the quasi-Psi-2000 infection that had ravaged one ship and threatened his own. Another was a catalogue of critical literary analyses of limericks, though there was rather a dearth of material with which to work. Three more simultaneously operating programs had no great impact on his ability to carry out the Captain's simple order. Data reached Lt. Yar's cabin and pressed the door chime.

"Come in."

Lt. Yar's voice had an unfamiliar quality to it – was it an extra huskiness? – that gave Data pause enough to enter the doorway with some caution. The lights inside were dimly lit. Lt. Yar was nowhere in sight, but a throaty, unabashed giggle announced her presence somewhere in the room.

"Lt. Yar?"

The giggling continued a moment more. Then the voice, still textured with a tonal quality that Data could not categorize, spoke again.

"Here, Data."

The door to Lt. Yar's sleeping area opened. Data took in the sight revealed, and in a series of actions indistinguishable to anyone but himself, shut down every extraneous program that had been running simultaneously in his positronic brain. The situation at hand demanded his full attention.

The sensory inputs Data was receiving deviated radically from the norm. Lt. Yar was dressed in a manner that he had never seen her exhibit off-duty, and certainly not on-duty, as she did now. Her clothing choices seemed to have been calculated to highlight her physical attributes. She had altered her hair, sporting a more formal, stylized arrangement than usual, and she wore more pronounced makeup in deeper colors than Data had ever seen her wear on the bridge. The overall effect was intriguing, and somewhat perplexing.

Lt. Yar fixed him with a serious look and spoke. "You wanted me?" Her tone implied that the words themselves did not convey her full meaning. Data referenced his files on vocal nonverbal depths of meaning at a speed faster than light. He narrowed the options to two choices, and then discarded the second.

Double-entendre. Decidedly so.

Lt. Yar approached him, walking slowly, purposefully, with a fluidity and languor in her movements that was highly uncharacteristic. She had not dropped her eyes from his, and serious was not an adequate descriptor for the look that was in them – there was an intensity that was almost unsettling.

Data forged on with his mission. "Capt. Picard ordered me to escort you to sickbay, Lieutenant."

"Did he say when?"

Data was fully taken aback. Lt. Yar had never questioned a direct order from a superior officer before. In fact, he had several instances in his memory files to draw upon when a subordinate's laxity in obeying an order had produced a sharp reprimand from Lt. Yar. Data surmised that the effect of the Tsiolkowsky virus upon the infected being was a marked change in behavior, but a virus could not plant ideas in the brain of a person, could it? The impulse must already exist with the mind of the infected party. Perhaps the virus worked on the areas of the brain that controlled inhibition, sorted priorities, or distinguished fantasy and wishes from reality.

"I am sure he meant now, so you should get into uniform."

Lt. Yar tsked. "But I got out of my uniform for you, Data."

It was the salient piece of information that had heretofore eluded him, and several things clicked into place. A note in the file from the Constitution-class Enterprise gained a precedence that it had not had before – the infected crew had behaved as if fully uninhibited, acting on notions that they would have ignored if they had been well. Lt. Yar was acting on a notion that Data had not anticipated, but was not wholly unprecedented, once a perusal of his memories was made under a different light. Certain interactions in the past two months, and the events of the past minute, took on a different significance when analyzed within the proper context.

Lt. Yar was attempting to seduce him.

This conclusion sparked a long-dormant subroutine that performed an automatic series of checks for certain elements: privacy, a single adult partner, an established relationship, explicit consent, adequate time and space. Each received a yes in a tree of yes/no, on/off sequences. A single question remained: run program?

Data held off. His ethical program was vigorously working through the dilemma with which he had been presented. Lt. Yar was under the influence of a virus that made her behave as if she were intoxicated. The intoxication prompted her to act on an impulse that she would have suppressed under normal circumstances. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to act on this impulse – she had changed her appearance, her voice, and her manner in order to make her intentions clear. But, would it be right to accede to her wishes?

"Do you know how old I was when I was abandoned?"

Data responded, able to hold a conversation and work through the complex problem simultaneously. Lt. Yar was divulging personal information about her past – something that she did rarely. In fact, when Data's fellow officers engaged in reminiscences of home or childhood, he had often observed that Lt. Yar was silent, and would sometimes excuse herself and physically absent herself from the conversation. Her frank revelations about her past life in the colony represented a momentous break from that behavior.

Lt. Yar had professed to be open to friendship with him. And though she had apologized for running away from him in the arboretum, she had never explained why she had done so. Perhaps Lt. Yar's sexual interest in him was not a new notion, but a feeling that she had experienced before. Perhaps she had felt torn by his offer of friendship, due to her interest in something more intimate. In which case, perhaps acting on that impulse now would be a relief to her. Data admitted to himself that the notion was quite appealing, to think that Lt. Yar saw him in that way. A human would certainly consider it flattering.

She had closed what little distance remained between them and taken hold of his shoulders. In Data's brain, one program still waited, infinitely patient, for the command to run or quit.

Data hesitated no longer. _Yes. Run._

* * *

><p>Tasha couldn't believe her luck. She was finally alone with Data. They regarded each other with matching smiles.<p>

"Perhaps we should begin by removing our clothing," Data offered politely.

"Excellent," Tasha replied. "You first."

There was a not uncomfortable silence for some moments. Neither one moved.

"Ah…Lt. Yar? I cannot reach my boots from our present position."

Data was lying across the edge of Tasha's bed, his knees straddling her standing form.

Tasha giggled extravagantly. She stepped back and Data bent his torso to sit upright, and crossed one leg over another to take off his shoes and socks. That accomplished, he stood and unfastened the closure at his neck, easing his uniform away from his shoulders and over his hips. He sat down again, pulled the suit from his legs, and folded it. He placed it neatly on the floor.

Tasha thought Data looked awfully vulnerable in his undershirt and briefs. Her heart swelled with tenderness. He looked at her expectantly. The urgent desire boiling in Tasha's veins began to be overlaid with a more subdued warmth. Data was so sweet. And so handsome. Tasha sighed. "Why don't you come up here and hold me?"

Data obliged, standing and folding Tasha in his arms. She squeezed him tight, and felt his pulse racing against her chest. She lifted her face and looked at him.

"Data, your heart's beating really fast. Are you nervous?"

The android shook his head. "That is my circulatory system at work. I must undergo a physiological change in order to have sex with you. The fluid in my body is being rerouted to accomplish that end."

"Oh," replied Tasha, "Good!" Then, "Why don't you kiss me?"

Data did not reply, but obediently bent his face to hers. His lips were soft, and the contact sent a shiver through Tasha's whole body. God, how long had it been? She deepened the kiss, pushing his mouth open with her lips, gratified to feel him respond, his tongue seeking hers. Time seemed to stretch out and slow down. They finally broke apart. Tasha's face was flushed, and she breathed heavily through parted lips. Data held her, but she sensed something deferential in his embrace.

"Am I going to have to ask you for everything I want?" Her voice sounded rough to both of them.

"No. I can be more aggressive, if you would like. However, you asked me for gentleness."

"Oh!" Tasha smiled wryly. "Go ahead – be a little more aggressive. Do you know how to take the lead?"

"It is part of my programming."

"Nice program. How 'bout you help me undress?" Tasha stepped out of Data's embrace with a devilish look in her eye. "Rip these off."

She was indicating the gauzy lavender harem pants that barely covered her long legs. The sound of tearing fabric briefly filled the room, and Tasha stepped her sandal-clad feet out of the remnants.

"Black panties," Data observed.

"Now's not the time for running commentary, Data."

"Forgive me."

"It's okay. Computer: lights out."

The room was plunged into complete darkness, with only the stars shining through the windows for illumination.

"So, you were going to show me how you take the lead."


	11. Chapter 11

Data thought that their interaction had been entirely successful. Tasha lay collapsed on top of him, her full weight relaxed over his body, her nose occasionally nuzzling his ear. Altogether, a success.

He noticed, however, a change overtaking his internal systems. He had been too busy to be overly concerned before – his sexuality program was an exceedingly complex one – but now it was impossible to ignore that there were anomalous synaptic reactions taking place in his positronic net. It was as if the biochemical fluids that carried impulses across his neurons at faster than light speeds were somehow being diverted. It was an odd sensation.

"Lt. Yar?"

Tasha stirred slightly. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Data, you're still inside me. I think we are definitely on a first name basis here."

"Tasha," Data corrected himself, "I think that we should endeavor to go to sickbay now. The captain was concerned for your wellbeing."

"Screw the captain." Data's eyebrows rose. "I feel great." Tasha lifted her head and looked in Data's eyes. "I mean it. That was great. Thank you."

"I should thank you. There are some human rituals that I am able to observe with great frequency, but the act of love is not one of them. It was a rare experience. I am grateful that you chose me for your partner. It was . . . great for me as well."

"Oh, yeah?" A leonine smile spread over Tasha's face. "Wanna do it again?"

Data tried to recall a reason why he should go, but his priorities seemed to have reordered themselves. A turn of phrase offered itself, perfectly applicable to the situation. "Why not?"

* * *

><p>"Oh, my god." Tasha lay on her back beside Data, who lay on his back with a beatific expression on his face. "That was fantastic. Even better than the first time."<p>

"I am programmed to improve and adapt," replied Data brightly. His silly perma-grin seemed like the most appropriate expression for the moment, perhaps for the rest of the day.

"I want to congratulate your programmers, whoever they may be."

They turned to each other and blazed their full, wide, white-toothed grins upon one another like shiny mirrors. They spent an inordinate amount of time doing so, gazing into each other's eyes.

"Oh, crap!" Tasha smacked her forehead. "We're supposed to be on duty. On the bridge."

Data looked vague. That bit of information seemed buried under other detrita. "We are?"

"Uh-huh. We should get dressed. Computer: lights!" Tasha's leap from the bed was positively elastic. "I think I'll shower first."

"I will wait for you." Data considered for a moment. "Are you taking a sonic shower? May I join you?"

The sound of Tasha slapping her bare legs traveled from the bathroom, along with hoots of laughter. "No, then we'll never get out of here!" The vibrations of the shower began to emanate from the bathroom. "Maybe later."

Later. The idea seemed quite amenable to Data. He got up and began to dress himself, retrieving his undergarments from the corner where Tasha had flung them.

In another few minutes, Tasha bounded from the bathroom, her naked body a blur as she barreled through the bedroom door. "Wait, I'm not supposed to go to the bridge. I'm supposed to go to sickbay – captain's orders," she yelled from the living room.

"I believe that is correct." The grin had not left Data's face. He wondered if singing would be inappropriate – it did seem like a fine activity to engage in at the moment. "Should I escort you there?"

"No, silly, I know where it is." Tasha skipped back into the bedroom, fully dressed in uniform, her hair once more flopping with her movements. "Kiss me goodbye."

Data planted a rather passionate kiss on Tasha's upturned lips. She squirmed away after a moment, hilarious with laughter.

"We never will get out of here, if you do that. C'mon, lover. Let's go."

Tasha grabbed Data's arm and rushed him to the door.


	12. Chapter 12

"It was fascination, I know, and it might have ended right there at the start…"

Data had a surprisingly beautiful tenor voice. Tasha stopped her loping sideways shuffle down the hall and skipped back to where the android was weaving unsteadily forward, one pale hand on the wall for support, and singing at a resoundingly loud volume.

"Just a passing glance, just a brief romance, and I might have gone on my way empty-hearted…"

"Pretty!" Tasha clapped her hands. She felt absolutely free, liberated, unfettered. She longed to cartwheel down the corridor, but there really wasn't enough room.

"Fascination's here when you're near, I am all entranced as we dance here tonight…"

"Hey!" She grabbed the warbling android's arm and pointed to the door ahead of them. "This is the turbolift."

"So it is," Data agreed. His smile had taken on a self-satisfaction that looked copied from a smug character in a drawing-room play. The doors opened. "Shall we?" He gallantly extended an arm, leaning rather too far forward. Tasha reached out to steady him, and the two dropped unceremoniously to a heap on the floor inside, Tasha prostrate with laughter.

"Ah…deck…ah…Sickbay!" she cried, staggering up from the ground.

"Bridge." Data stood in one seamless motion that was marred by a wobble as the car began to move.

"Wow. Fast," remarked Tasha. The doors opened on deck 12. Tasha lurched out, and yelled, "'Bye!" with a wave. The doors closed on Data's two-fingered salute.

Tasha hummed snatches of song as she swooped down the hall, here and there executing a spinning dance step. She felt as relaxed as if she'd just had a long, hot bath.

"La la fasci-naaaa-tion, I know, lalalala laaaa la the moonlight, la la . . ."

Her swooping and dancing took her through the corridors, but her destination seemed murky. "Computer, where is sickbay?" A line of flashing lights appeared in the wall, pointing back the way that she'd come. Tasha spun around and stumbled after the blinking lights, now and then patting the wall in gratitude.

Tasha wove through the sickbay doors. "Hi, everybody!" she yelled, taking several giant steps into the room.

"Shut up and lie down." Dr. Crusher's voice was as harried as her appearance. She darted from her office and made a beeline for the door.

"Jeez. No need to snap," Tasha grumbled. Besides, she didn't feel at all tired. She ambled to the station where Deanna was lying down.

"Hi, Deanna!"

"Tasha!" Deanna looked flustered and confused. "There are too many minds here. You have to tell them to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop thinking. Stop feeling. Tell them!" Deanna put a hand to her forehead in the pose of a damsel in distress.

Tasha scratched her head. What a drag. Aloud, she said, "Okay." She took a deep breath. "STOP-" her ear-splitting yell was silenced by Deanna's quick hand, clamped firmly over Tasha's mouth.

"Shhhh. Tell them with your mind," Deanna stage-whispered.

Tasha nodded, Deanna's hand bobbing up and down with her chin. Tasha screwed her eyes closed and tried to obey.

A nurse approached the pair and gently removed Deanna's hand from Tasha's face. "Lt. Yar, please come with me and lie down," she said firmly.

"Shhh." Tasha's eyes were still tightly closed. "I'm concentrating."

Just outside the door, the sound of the ship's klaxons startled all three.

"Oh no! Red alert. Something bad is happening!" Tasha grabbed Deanna's hands. Somewhere vaguely in the back of her mind, she was sure that she should be doing something to help.

The doors slid open to make way for Beverly's hurrying form. Her uniform front was unfastened to a daringly low level. She charged into her office, muttering under her breath. The nurse scurried back to her station.

Deanna and Tasha clasped hands spasmodically. The trouble seemed real, and near, and then, "Can't they shut off that noise?" Deanna caviled. "Are the klaxons always that loud?"

"You must have sensitive ears. I can barely hear them in here," replied Tasha wonderingly.

"My mother always played music for us at home, and my father used to sing me to sleep."

"Oh, that's nice. You should sing me something now," Tasha sighed.

"I have good ears but a bad voice," Deanna replied ruefully.

Their conversation grew only more inane. After a few minutes, the captain entered sickbay and beat a path to the doctor's office. Soon, both the captain and the doctor emerged and toddled over to Geordi's bed. Before long they broke apart, the captain hurrying out of the room and the doctor back to her office.

Geordi hopped down from the bed. "I'm heading to the bridge on the double," he announced, and exited sickbay at a jog.

Beverly re-emerged from her office. She approached the two senior officers, hypospray in hand. The doctor injected Deanna, who sat up after a moment, shaking her head. The doctor then injected Tasha.

In an instant, the scales began to fall from her eyes.

* * *

><p>AN - Fascination: music by FD Marchetti, English lyrics by Dick Manning and Bill Irwin.


	13. Chapter 13 Pt Two: Putting the Damage On

Two – Putting the Damage On

"Tasha, sit down. I think you're suffering a histamine reaction to the antidote," Beverly said, laying a restraining hand on her shoulder. Tasha's face was a deep red, nearly purple. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and she was biting down on her lower lip, so hard that the doctor was afraid she would draw blood.

"Don't touch me," Tasha snapped, slapping the doctor's hand away. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. I sense great turmoil in you," Deanna countered. She had risen to stand next to her but hesitated to touch Tasha, who was now visibly shaking.

"It's NOT the antidote! I'm FINE!" Tasha shouted.

Both Beverly and Deanna took a step back. Two medical staffers hurried over, alarm on their faces.

"I have to inoculate the rest of the crew," the doctor said, her voice even and controlled. She turned away. "Dr. Selar, get a team together and deploy them on every deck with the remaining hypos. I'll start with the bridge." The doctor walked to the exit, looking back over her shoulder and catching Deanna's eye. They shared a look that spoke volumes: Beverly trusted Deanna to take hold of the situation.

"We're at red alert. The bridge is where I should be right now." Tasha had lowered her voice, but she spoke through clenched teeth. Her skin had faded to a harsh pink.

As abruptly as they had begun, the alarms ceased. Tasha and Deanna stood warily still for a moment, as if testing the air.

"The danger's over," said Deanna. "Now, talk to me – are you suffering some kind of aftereffect from the virus?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just frustrated and mad as hell. The safety of the ship was at stake and where was I?" The thought of where she'd been deepened the color of Tasha's face to crimson again. "There must've been some way to have prevented this crisis from ever happening. I blame myself."

"Tasha, you're being unreasonable."

"I'm not." Tasha made a sound of disgust and struggled to regain her composure.

"I'm sure that we can work this out in the debrief. There is no reason for you to berate yourself." Deanna's voice was soothing, with no hint of patronization. "There's going to be plenty of blame to go around – don't heap it all on your own head. Let go, and trust that the captain will make the proper assessment of the crisis. It's not for you to decide at this instant."

Tasha nodded, her fists unclenching, the blood receding from her face. The line of her jaw remained hard and set, but the glower was leaving her brow.

"Okay, Counselor. Let's report to the bridge."

They left sickbay, Tasha dreading what was sure to be the worst duty she'd ever stood.

* * *

><p>The ship was underway, headed to Armus IX for a diplomatic mission. The bridge was uncomfortably silent. Tasha avoided meeting anyone's eyes. Data had been staring at her ever since she'd unequivocally told him that nothing had happened, and she was in no mood to explain, no matter how pathetic the puzzlement on his face.<p>

The captain had scheduled the debriefing for 1700 hours, but Tasha had something to get off of her chest before then. She waited tensely at her station, calculating her moment. It finally came. Geordi got up from the conn and Tasha keyed a signal for relief, following him to the corridor. He entered the head, and she waited, feeling like a stalker as she did.

Tasha pounced as soon as he reappeared. "Geordi, can I talk to you alone?"

"Sure." They walked into the lounge. "What's up?"

Tasha launched into her attack. "What the hell happened on that ship? Do you realize that you infected everyone on the Enterprise? And nearly killed us all?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Geordi held up both hands. "What're you accusing me of, Lieutenant? We were both on the Tsiolkowsky. You know everything that I know about what happened there."

"That's a load of crap. I didn't come back infected. That didn't happen until I found you in here, after you disappeared from sickbay."

"Is that what this is about?" Geordi was incredulous. "You're blaming me for infecting you?"

"Yes! What did you do down there? Couldn't you follow safety protocols? Why did you jeopardize the whole ship and our mission like some kind of saboteur?"

"You are out of line, Lieutenant!" Geordi's anger was growing to match Tasha's. "You're acting as if I got sick on purpose. There was nothing I could do to -"

"You could've stayed in sickbay like you were ordered to," Tasha yelled, gesticulating with both hands.

"I was out of my right mind, Yar, or don't you remember that THAT was the whole reason we were sent to investigate in the first place," shouted Geordi, his voice verging into hoarseness.

"Of course I remember – you infected me, or don't you remember?"

"My god, I'm sorry! Is that what you want to hear?"

"No. 'I'm sorry' isn't going to cut it. I'm pissed off at you, and I'm going to be angry for the rest of my life. If you started apologizing now, and kept it up for the next 50 years, maybe I might stop being angry, but right now, I don't think it's going to make a dent in it!"

Geordi exploded with a laugh. "Do you know how crazy you sound? Fine, I take it back – I'm not sorry, because it's not my fault! It was an accident! That body just fell into my hands!"

"HA!" Tasha did realize that she sounded crazy, but the dam had burst and there was no stopping the flood now. "I knew you broke protocol. You touched someone!"

"Brilliant, Holmes. Congratulations. I made a mistake and endangered the ship and her whole crew. Are you proud of yourself?" Geordi's voice lowered to a sarcastic hiss. "Do you think I'm proud of myself?"

Tasha was struck by the hurt she detected in his voice. She wiped at the angry tears that had sprung unnoticed to her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Damn it, Geordi, why couldn't you've stayed in sickbay?" Tasha controlled her voice with audible effort, and looked down at the floor.

Geordi approached her and put both hands on her shoulders. "Look, I'm sorry, Tasha. I really am. It was a mistake. I feel horrible about what happened. I didn't mean to hurt you or anyone else. You have to forgive me."

Tasha shrugged off Geordi's hands and his face tensed up again.

"You have no idea, Geordi. No idea what happened. I let down everyone on the ship. We were facing danger, and I was useless."

"Jeez, Lieutenant, I'm no counselor, but I think you're being a little hard on yourself, and on me."

"You have no idea." And she wasn't about to tell him, either. Tasha gulped. Yet another secret to bury in her already full store. She felt like crawling into a storage unit and never coming out again.

"So you keep saying. You need to lock down that guilt – it's not doing you any good."

Tasha didn't respond. She just looked at Geordi and shook her head, her blond hair shuddering.

"If you're all done yelling at me, I'd like to return to my duties now." Geordi cocked his head and attempted to smile.

"Fine." They headed toward the door. "I'm still mad."

"You don't say."

They walked the ramp to the bridge, but Tasha didn't retake her station. She headed for the turbolift.

She had some more yelling to do.

* * *

><p>Sickbay was much emptier than it had been a few hours earlier. Dr. Crusher was in her office, and Lt. Yar approached the doorway.<p>

"May I come in?"

"Of course, Tasha. Are you feeling like yourself again?" Beverly asked with a smile.

Tasha ignored the question. "I want to talk to you about updating the protocols for medical quarantine."

Beverly raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason?"

"As chief of security, I want to be informed of any potential danger like the one we faced today, and I want to have a hand in securing the rest of the ship from that danger."

"I informed the captain immediately when I ascertained that Lt. La Forge might have been compromised. I followed procedures to the letter."

"You didn't restrain him."

Beverly expelled a breath, but her face remained cool. "That wasn't necessary in my assessment at the time. Geordi didn't seem dangerous or combative, and I expected him to follow orders."

"He didn't." Tasha also maintained a professional tone, but her words were clipped. "A restraining field would've removed that possibility."

"That's not your call to make, Lieutenant." The doctor's voice betrayed the barest hint of antagonism.

"That's why I'd like to be involved next time," Tasha retorted.

Beverly leveled a penetrating look at the younger woman. "What's this really about, Lieutenant? We found a solution before the damage went too far. We're all safe now, and I plan to disclose everything that happened, including my initial miscalculation, in my report. We can't go back in time and fix our mistakes, but there's no need to overreact moving forward." She made as if to turn back to her work.

"I have a report to file as well, and I plan to make a specific mention of your culpability." Tasha folded her arms behind her back.

Beverly stared down for several seconds, and then barely opened her mouth as she spoke. "I won't hinder you in your duties, Lieutenant." Tasha turned to go, but stopped as the doctor continued. "But I won't be bullied into second-guessing my professional opinion. I appreciate the seriousness of your duty to the ship. I expect you to respect my duty as well." Beverly held Tasha's eyes with an intense stare. "I do not intend to jeopardize the safety of the ship, but I will not treat any member of the crew like a criminal without undue cause. That is my official word as chief medical officer, and I consider the matter closed." Tasha bristled and opened her mouth to speak, but Beverly forged on. "And I'd like you to consider that we've all had an unusually trying day, and it might be best to think over our words before we say something that we might regret."

Tasha paused for a long moment, then left the doctor's office without a word or a backward glance.

"Trying day doesn't cover the half of it," she muttered to herself.


	14. Chapter 14

The senior officers convened in the observation lounge for the debriefing spoke cordially, but the currents of tension between them were unmistakable. The looks between Will and Deanna practically sizzled in the air. In contrast, ice crackled whenever Beverly and Tasha's eyes met. Geordi looked chagrined, and a subtle tightness entered Data's neutral expression whenever he rested his gaze on Tasha, who pointedly avoided even turning her head his way. The captain's usual urbane, patriarchal demeanor suffered with something akin to embarrassment whenever he looked at Beverly, whose expression would become wry. Only Worf was as impassive as always.

The captain continued his summation. "Though we lost the Tsiolkowsky and her crew, we saved the Enterprise. We made a full recovery of the research they gathered, and Mr. Data's analysis of the carbon-water contaminant has been sent on to Starfleet HQ, along with the formula for Dr. Crusher's broad-base antidote. I deem that part of the mission to be a success." The captain paused, his eyes briefly resting on and sliding away from Beverly's. A tinge of embarrassment entered his voice. "I suffered the disorienting effects of the virus, as did nearly everyone in this room." He paused to pass a hand over his mouth and chin. "The doctor has ruled those of you who were absent from your stations as medically incapable of fulfilling your responsibilities and has retroactively relieved you of duty for the necessary time period.

"An enemy that works on the mind can be quite devastating. To lose control of one's faculties, to fall prey to wild notions without the power to resist . . ." The captain broke off. "Perhaps poetic words are inadequate to what I am trying to say. I would ask all of you to cut yourselves a good deal of slack today. I commend you all for saving the ship, and I remind you that every member of the Tsiolkowsky's crew fell to the foe that you vanquished. You are a fine crew, and you withstood this trial admirably."

Tasha did not dare to look away from the captain, for fear of seeing three different versions of 'I told you so' looks thrown her way.

"Dismissed." Everyone rose at the captain's order and began to leave the room. Data hung back as Tasha stepped around the conference table.

"Lt. Yar, may I speak to you in . . ."

"No," she snapped, sidestepping him and walking to the exit to follow the others. They split into two groups to take the turbolifts, Worf, Geordi, Tasha, and Will in one, Beverly, Jean-Luc, and Deanna in the other. Data edged into the aft turbolift with the larger group.

"Deck two."

"Deck eight."

"Deck ten."

The car sped on its way. Geordi and Worf got off on deck two, and Tasha steeled herself when Data did not exit as well. The car resumed.

"Wild day," commented Will sardonically. He received no response from his stony-faced companions. The doors opened on deck eight, and Tasha stepped out, with Data on her heels.

"Tasha, a word. Please."

"Not here!" she yelled. The hall was full of people for the shift change, and one or two turned to look at her. She lowered her voice. "My quarters."

"As you wish."

They walked on in silence and soon reached her cabin. Tasha took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered, Data right behind. She turned and faced him, her arms folded.

"A question: What did you mean by saying, 'It never happened'? I have a complete memory record of every moment in time that I experience. You must know that your supposition is patently false."

"A turn of phrase. Let me be more precise. You are not to say one word to anyone ever about what happened today. Is that clear?"

"I give you my word as a Starfleet officer."

Tasha nodded, her face a mask.

"May I impose a condition?" Data's face was equally emotionless.

Tasha narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Would you allow me to discuss the events that transpired between us with you?"

Seeing a lost, sincere look take over Data's face, Tasha felt the edges of her resolve crumble, but she stood firm. "I don't want to talk about it."

The android's lashes lowered, and Tasha could swear that he looked hurt. "I understand," he replied softly.

"Wait." Tasha sighed. "I'm not trying to be cruel. I suppose I can't blame you for wanting an explanation. I guess . . . I guess it would be all right for you to talk to me about it."

Data looked relieved. "Thank you. I am capable of keeping a secret, but to behave as if the interaction to which I believe we are both referring never transpired, without any discussion or analysis in hindsight, would have been detrimental to my progress as a social being. I appreciate the concession."

"You're welcome." Tasha couldn't believe that she'd been worried about losing face with Data. How could he possibly bruise her feelings when he put things in such clinical terms? "Do you want to sit down?"

"It might be preferable to standing in the entryway."

"Yeah, it's preferable. I'm exhausted."

She briefly considered sitting in chairs with the dining table between them, but ultimately chose the couch. Tasha was grateful that the living area was immaculate and the scene of the crime hidden by her bedroom door. She sank down in one corner of her gray sofa. Data prudently sat at the other corner, a decorous space between them. Tasha wanted to take off her shoes and curl up, but she was resolved not to show any signs of familiarity.

Several moments passed in silence before Data spoke. "Do you regret having sex with me?"

Heavens, he was blunt, but the words were out there now, and though she was unnerved, Tasha spoke with composure. "Data, that is a very, very complicated question. I wish you'd start with something easier."

"It would seem to warrant a yes or no response."

"Well, it's not that easy. You're talking about human emotions – there are no black and white answers."

"Perhaps I could tell you the answer for myself. I do not regret having had sex with you. I consider it to have been a remarkable experience, and I do not wish to pretend that it never happened."

Tasha felt her resolve crumble a little more. "That's really kind of you to say, but there's a lot more at stake here. You're my superior officer, and you're my friend."

"Do you think that we have damaged our friendship by having sex?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

They fell silent again, but there was less animosity in the air. This time it was Tasha who spoke first. "I never should have . . ." she stopped herself, and tried again. "I didn't mean to . . ."

"That is the aspect that puzzles me the most about the affair. You seemed very sure of what you wanted in the moment."

"I just shouldn't have done it – I never should've come on to you like I did. I've put us in a horrible mess. I'm sorry."

"I am not." Data looked Tasha squarely in the eyes, the first time that he had managed to do so since they had parted in the turbolift, hours ago.

"Look, I'm going to try to be honest with you, and you should know that this stuff is hard for me to talk about – really hard. Sometimes I feel like I have a big boulder on my chest and it won't let me let any words out." Data looked confused, but Tasha continued. "I value friendship much more than any kind of boyfriend-girlfriend, lovey-dovey relationship. I'm not really the girlfriend type. I've burned out more friendships than I care to remember by getting sex and love mixed up in them. I'm not saying that I'm some heartless ice queen. But . . . you're special, Data. I care about what you think of me. I want you to respect me. Your friendship means a lot to me, and I'm terrified that I've royally screwed that up."

Tasha waited nervously as Data puzzled over her words. He finally replied. "You are afraid that, after having had sex with you, I would think less of you?"

Tasha nodded. "It happens."

Data's face was full of wonder. "On the contrary, I think much more of you than I did before. You know that I have no capacity for feelings, no human emotions, but I do have wishes, and desires, and aspirations. The inclination to form connections with others is fundamental to my programming. Intellectually, I understand fully the need for companionship, for friendship, and the need to be loved. You have shared something with me that makes you unique. That cannot help but elevate your status in my life."

Tasha moved closer to Data, half-unconsciously. "Unique? You don't mean to say that that was your first time?"

Data gave her a deprecatory look. "It is not customary for humans to discuss the frequency or number of their sexual encounters in polite conversation. I will say, however, that it had been a long time."

"For me, too," Tasha admitted. She inched closer to him again. "But you thought it was special?"

"Yes."

"I have such a different perspective. Where I grew up, sex was a commodity. There was no provision for money on the colony, so you got what you needed by cunning, or force, or begging, or bartering." Tasha shuddered involuntarily. "There was very little else for a young girl to trade, unless you joined the gangs. And I refused to join the gangs."

Data leaned towards her, his eyes soft with sympathy, and said, "Tasha, I am sorry. I did not know."

It was almost exactly what he'd said to her earlier, staring into her eyes, moments before she'd led him to her bed. The thought of it sent a spiral of warmth through Tasha's belly. She tried to shake it off.

"Anyway, it was never special. It was dirty and shameful and wrong. Sometimes I could barely live with myself, but I couldn't starve, either." She folded one leg underneath herself, moving close enough for their thighs to touch. "Even when I did it for love, or lust, or whatever you want to call it, it still felt wrong. I felt like something was being taken from me every time, like a power cell being sucked dry with no way to recharge. I'd rather have a friend than a lover any day."

Data looked questioningly at her. "You did not seem to find it wrong this afternoon. You appeared to be happy."

Tasha thought back to it, finally allowing the images that she'd assiduously pushed away to flood her mind. She remembered perfectly; she had felt happy. He had been such a considerate and exciting partner. She had asked for what she wanted without reservation, and he had responded with virtuosic sensitivity. It was just a few hours before, and the feel of his mouth, his fingers, his body, came rushing back with a presence that took her breath away. The warmth in her belly heated to a sizzle.

Data continued. "I had the distinct impression that you were pleased, even elated. Your smile, your cries of pleasure, the way you clung to me at the moment of…"

He was stopped by Tasha's kiss – she'd spun as gracefully as an acrobat to straddle him and glued her lips to his. Data's eyes went wide with surprise, but he returned her embrace. She swiftly unfastened his uniform, sliding her hands inside, seeking out his skin.

As gently as he could, Data put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away.

"Your actions contradict your words, Tasha. Is this what you really want right now?" He sounded concerned and frankly baffled.

She responded by unfastening her own uniform past the waist and lowering her face to his again. His response was nearly automatic – he remembered well what she had liked before. Tasha gasped and shoved more clothing out of their way.

"Stand up," she said, her voice thick, her lips against his mouth. Data obliged, supporting her with one arm, and she wrapped her legs around him, keeping her balance with a hand on his shoulder. "No, not the bedroom. Over there. Against the wall." She murmured orders between kisses, her eyes half-closed, her free hand buried in his clothes. "Yes, like that . . . just let me . . . there . . .oh . . . yes … Yes! … Ahhh . . . please . . . now . . ."

Then there was no more talking, but a series of inarticulate sounds on an ascending scale, culminating in a cry that sounded almost like a wail of pain.

And then there was quiet, broken by the sound of open-mouthed panting that gradually slowed.

The sensation of ecstasy that had washed over Tasha a minute before was being replaced by an animal sadness. _That was more like it, wasn't it_, she thought. _Quick. Furtive. All of our clothes still on, standing up like a common . . ._

"Data, I think you should leave."

"WHAT?" The shock in his voice was off the scale.

"Please go. Please put me down."

Data complied, easing Tasha's back away from the living room wall and releasing his grip on her thighs. She dropped her feet to the floor, turning her face away at a sharp angle.

"Please go. I'd like to be alone."

Several expressions flickered over Data's face, until he chose one: indignation. "What is it now?"

"Just go and leave me alone!" she shouted, pushing at Data's chest.

With a few quick motions, he rearranged his clothes and refastened his uniform. Data covered the space to the door in a few long strides.

"Tasha, you are absolutely impossible to understand."

He turned and left. Tasha stood still for a few seconds, and then looked wildly around the room. Everything in it was sturdy, unbreakable, and she felt a great urge to break things.

"Computer! Play some music."

"Please specify type of music."

"I don't care! Just make it loud!"

A riot of brass instruments blared, and Tasha let out a primal scream.


	15. Chapter 15

Tasha couldn't remember the last time she'd had trouble sleeping. She prided herself on her ability to fall asleep at a moment's notice, with a rock for a pillow if necessary. She lay staring into the darkness as she had for who knows how long, her mind racing.

She'd barely eaten any dinner, alone in her quarters, after talking herself out of replicating a baseball bat to smash up her furniture with. She hadn't dared to go to Ten-forward. She hadn't bothered working out, either. She didn't want to run into anyone and she'd already exerted herself enough for one day. "Ugh!" She expelled a grunt of self-loathing, not for the first time that night. Morning. Whatever, she thought, what difference did it make to the slut of the century?

She replayed their conversation in her head for perhaps the twentieth time. What the hell had come over her? One minute, she was talking to Data, trying to patch things over, trying to salvage the promise she'd made to herself to build a strictly platonic relationship with him. The next minute, she was on him like a pack of wild dogs on a slab of meat. What was she thinking?

Of course, it wasn't thinking. It was whatever was going on in her gut that made her want him in the first place. God, what was it about him? And what did it matter, anyway, since he probably hated her now? Not that he could hate her. But what reason would he have to ever trust her again?

Tasha touched the padd embedded in her nightstand. 0410. She hadn't slept at all the whole night. Great. Bridge duty in less than four hours, and she would be dead on her feet.

She threw off her blanket and swung her legs out of bed. Her bedroom was as spotless as usual, after she'd gathered up the trappings of her skank-fest the night before and destroyed them in the mechanical re-processor. She'd been sorely tempted to phaser them into a puff of dust, but she'd resisted. She hadn't slept on it, but she decided that she'd thought over everything long enough. It was time to face the music. It was not like he'd be sleeping.

"Computer, where is Lt. Cdr. Data?"

"Lt. Cdr. Data is in his quarters."

This time, she wouldn't screw it up. "Ugh!" The unintended pun hit her as she walked into her bathroom.

* * *

><p>Data was working at his computer console, both hands on the interfaces. He was sifting through the history and culture of the people of Armus IX. Cdr. Riker would be the main liaison for their diplomatic courtesy call, and Data had a head start on the briefing he would present in two days' time.<p>

The door chime sounded. "Enter," he said, consulting his internal chronometer. 0425. Almost no one ever visited him at this time. He had seven milliseconds to speculate on whom it might be before Tasha entered.

Data continued to work, eyes on the monitor, without lifting his head. Neither one greeted the other. Tasha stood awkwardly in the entryway, waiting for some sign from him, or at least an acknowledgment of her presence. When it was clear that none was forthcoming, she spoke up.

"Data, I came to apologize."

He looked at her with his eyes without moving his head. It came across as uncannily cold. He did not reply.

"Data, please. I know you're mad at me . . ."

"I am not capable of feeling anger."

"Okay, I know that, too. But I also know that I've given you reasons to mistrust me."

He worked on, unabated. Tasha started to feel desperate. "Please give me another chance. I don't know what came over me."

"When? When you seduced me the first time? When you lied to me on the bridge and pretended not to see me for exactly two hours, forty-seven minutes and sixteen seconds before you deigned to speak to me? When you seduced me the second time? Or when you summarily kicked me out of your quarters?" For someone who could not feel anger, Data looked and sounded convincingly severe. "I would like to know which of these actions constitutes your true feelings, because, taken as a whole, they are irrational to the extreme. If you are asking for another chance to abuse me, I must respectfully decline."

"Of course that's not what I want!"

"Or another chance to shout at me? I believe you have had a surfeit of chances."

"I'm sorry for shouting. I didn't mean to raise my voice."

"You seem to make a habit of doing and saying things that you do not mean."

Tasha rushed forward to Data's workstation and stood facing him. "You have to believe me. I'm sorry. I know I've been acting irrationally. I've been a total jerk. Please listen to me – let me try to explain."

Data continued to work.

Tasha's voice dropped to a whisper. "I haven't slept at all, thinking about how I hurt you. I figured it was all over for us now, that you would just hate me after what happened last night, just like I feared. I told you I've ruined friendships in the past by adding sex into the mix. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Data had finally stopped and let his hands fall by his sides.

"I can't tell you why I did what I did. I promise not to let it happen again. I meant what I said when I told you that your friendship is important to me. Please give me a chance to be your friend – to make things right." Tasha's voice was slightly louder, but breaking.

Data's stern expression slackened slightly, leaving only a resigned frown. "You are not the only one to have taken action last night. I had a choice to make as well."

"And you asked me if it was what I really wanted. You tried to do the right thing."

"What is it that you really want, Tasha?"

She sighed and leaned both hands on the desk, her hair falling over her face. "Will you come sit down with me? I don't want this giant computer between us, if you're asking me to spill my guts to you."

Data's expression was unrelentingly wary.

"I promise – we'll just sit and talk. It's safe here. There's no bed."

"You definitively demonstrated last night that you do not consider a bed to be a prerequisite for sex."

"Ouch. Okay, I deserved that." Tasha crossed to Data's only couch and sat down. "I promise to behave myself."

Data got up from his desk, suspicion written large on his face. He pulled a chair from his dining area and sat down facing Tasha.

"Fine. I suppose I deserve that, too."

"I do not wish to offend you, but I believe that I should keep my distance."

"You make me sound like some kind of predator." Tasha was half-joking, but Data's hard expression made her drop all levity.

"You could say that I have all that I want," Tasha began. "The life I live now is the realization of my ultimate dream. I'm Chief of Security on the flagship of the Federation. I'm not saying that this is where my ambitions end, but this is what I dreamed of when I was a teenager in school, studying day and night, just dying to make it into the Academy. I learned back then that there wasn't time for much else if I wanted to succeed. I was on a treadmill set at the highest level, and if I didn't run my ass off every second, I was going to end up flat on my face.

"I don't let up on myself for one minute – not on my last assignment, not here, not at the Academy. I want to lead an exemplary life, and I think it's because I hope that that will blot out the nightmare that was my childhood."

The sternness had fully left Data's face, and he listened with his usual neutral expression.

"But it's not wholly true that I've achieved all that I strove for. I don't know what I want when it comes to people. I don't have a lot to go on. I look at Capt. Picard, and he seems to me to be the ideal – married to his ship, respected by everyone, and in control at every moment. But how do I know that he's not lonely?

"I guess I don't. And maybe I am. I never had a family that was like anything I've read or heard abut. I've never had a boyfriend like you read about either. I have friends. Anything else just seems too complicated. My friends are my family, and I guess that's how I like it." She stopped, and searched Data's eyes. "Does that make any sense to you?"

Data nodded, his face downcast. "I, too, have no family to speak of, no point of reference beyond that which I observe and the information I process. I have the logs and journals of the colonists from Omicron Theta, and I have my own experiences with others to draw upon. But I am essentially alone.

"I do not feel lonely. But my ambition is to one day have a family." Data looked up and met Tasha's eyes. "I would like to have a wife, and children, and a home. I believe it is within my grasp to experience these things."

"You're the marrying type?" Tasha winced. "Brother. Just what I need to hear."

"Is that an undesirable quality to have?"

"Of course not. I just don't feel it myself. I don't wanna be anybody's little wife. Starfleet is my baby. This ship is my home. I don't plan to ever let anyone or anything come between me and my career."

Data nodded philosophically. "We are different in that way."

"Differences are good for friends." Tasha leaned forward and tentatively put out her hand. "Friends?" she asked.

Data grasped her hand in his and shook it. "Friends."

His hand radiated warmth, the inhuman heat that she'd come to associate with his touch. She looked inside herself for the warmth that he inspired in her, and there it was, barely submerged, urging her to grab him and seal their reconciliation with a kiss.

_Down, girl,_ Tasha thought to herself._ I said friends._

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes into bridge duty, Tasha tried to stifle an audible yawn. No amount of coffee was going to revive her, but she left her station and ordered it from the replicator anyway.<p>

Geordi got up from the helm and joined her as she stood holding the warm cup in her hands. "Rough night?" he asked.

"I didn't sleep at all." Tasha swallowed a sip of coffee and raised the cup to hide another face-splitting yawn. She wiped the involuntary tears from her eyes.

"I could barely get any sleep, either. Next time we get called somewhere for psych problems, I'm going to arrange to be on leave," Geordi joked.

"Mm-hmm."

"You're barely awake, Lieutenant. Why don't you just switch shifts with someone and grab some rack?"

"Hardly seems fair. We all had a rough day yesterday," Tasha's face turned sheepish. "And I'm really sorry for taking it out on you. I had no right to blame you for catching the virus."

"You've already apologized once this morning. I told you to forget it," Geordi answered with a smile. "Why don't you save some of that remorse for the good doctor? I hear she's pretty miffed at you."

"Yeah, I stuck my foot in it with her, too."

"Is that why you didn't come to Ten-forward for dinner last night?"

"I was hiding in my quarters. Yesterday was not one of my proudest moments." She instinctively glanced over at Data, who was seated at science two.

"I'm sure you'll get over it. You're a tough cookie."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" Geordi asked nonchalantly.

"In Ten-forward? Don't we already have a standing reservation, unless Beverly wants to freeze me out?"

Geordi laughed. "I'm sure she'll get over it, too. No, I was thinking my quarters."

Tasha blinked. Was Geordi asking her out on a date? Was there something in the coffee, or was she hearing things? She cleared her throat to stall for time. "I'm probably not up for conversation tonight, either. I think a sandwich in my room will be all that I can handle."

"Suit yourself. The offer's there if you change your mind."

"Uh-huh." Tasha felt sufficiently unsure of her notion to keep her mouth shut. She flashed back to their bizarre conversation in the observation lounge the day before, before all hell had really broken loose. Was there more to it then she'd realized? That was all she needed – more complicated dynamics in her friendships.

"I think I will switch shifts with someone," she said aloud, sliding her cup into the dematerialization slot. "I'm going to be pretty useless if I don't get some rest."

"Good idea. It's not like we're doing anything but going in a straight line at warp three for the next 48 hours." Geordi walked back to the conn. Tasha walked up the ramp to tactical and keyed a request into the panel for a shift swap. She got an almost immediate response. _Either somebody wants brownie points, or someone's got a hot date_. Anyway, it was a relief. She could just hear the siren call of her bed.

She stepped over to science two, where Data was bathed in the green glow of the library computer. "I'm switching shifts with Anders so I can get some sleep, Commander."

"I will note the change in the log," he replied. "Pleasant dreams, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir." Tasha smiled, her dimples springing into view. "And thanks for talking to me this morning. You were generous with me when you didn't have to be, and I won't forget it."

"Think nothing of it." Data turned back to the display. Tasha gave his shoulder a squeeze goodbye and nodded to Ensign Anders, who was just exiting the turbolift. Tasha stepped inside and resisted the urge to curl up on the floor.

She was in her quarters in another few minutes. She stopped long enough to kick off her boots before sprawling fully clothed on top of her blanket. She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the bolster.


	16. Chapter 16

"Play it again, play it again," Deanna pleaded, her eyes shining with mirth.

The majority of the bridge crew was squeezed in around the miniscule monitor in the captain's ready room. Worf was stalking out the door, grumbling about "puerile human humor,' but Deanna, Beverly, Geordi, Data, and Tasha were standing crowded together. Picard sat behind his desk, and Riker stood, somewhat set apart.

The captain's voice was indulgent. "Computer: play time index 0421."

The image displayed was of a banquet hall, richly decorated with fabric hangings and potted flowering trees, with a long lush carpet leading to a wooden table surrounded by seated dignitaries. Two heraldic trumpets played, and Riker stepped into the camera's view, resplendent in a multicolored feathered cape and a purple feather boa. The gales of laughter began again.

Will folded his arms. "Haven't you people had enough?"

Tasha replied, "Well, it's true what they say – birds of a feather flock together," spoiling it with giggles before she could get the whole phrase out.

Beverly's face was perfectly composed as she added, "You should be proud, Will. It's quite a feather in your cap."

The laughter intensified. Will looked helplessly at Picard. "Captain!"

"We should stop," Data said seriously, "or we might run afoul of his temper." The laughter was augmented by groans.

"Yes, really, let's stop," Deanna wheedled. The others obligingly tried to stifle their hilarity. She waited a beat and finished, "Little birds in their nests agree."

The laughter re-doubled, accompanied by pointing at the monitor as the Riker on the screen adjusted his feather boa with a flourish worthy of a grand dame of the stage.

"I think I'm gonna choke," sputtered Geordi.

"Captain!" Will put out his hands in supplication.

"Yes, well, to the best of my knowledge, the ready room is off-limits to children," Picard said severely. Rumblings of "yes, sir" and "sorry, sir," along with general coughs and ahems came from the whole group. They all endeavored to maintain straight faces, except Data, who had never cracked a smile.

Beverly grabbed the captain's hand. "Just play it one more time," she begged, with an almost eyelash-fluttering appeal.

Picard's smile was the devil's own. "Computer: play time index 0421."

This time, when the trumpeters lifted their instruments to their mouths to play, Geordi crowed, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" answered by screams of laughter.

"I hope you know that I will get every last one of you back for this," vowed Will.

The routine, almost boring mission to Armus IX had been a much-needed breather after the calamitous rendezvous with the Tsiolkowsky. The ties that the bridge crew was building between themselves were ultimately strengthened by the disaster. Tasha was grateful that Beverly had been quick to forgive her, chalking it up to Tasha's youthful zealousness in performing her duties. Tasha was also glad that Data had accepted her apology – they worked in close proximity every day, and it would have been unbearable if he hadn't.

As it was, she was still having a hard time keeping her emotions in check around him. Perfection came so easily to him, and while she admired his unflappable decorum around her, she couldn't help but feel a little envious of the fact that he could operate at maximum efficiency all the time, despite what they'd been through. If she could, she would shut down her own emotions completely and only obey her thoughts, because as things stood, her mind and her heart had declared war on one another.

In her mind, Data was nothing more than an irreproachable officer and a loyal friend, but her stomach did flip-flops whenever she so much as brushed past him. The thought of seeing him invigorated her mornings, and she'd fallen into the habit of reliving their intimate encounters at night, lying in her bed, moments before drifting off to sleep. She felt giddy and foolish, and she wished to hell it would just stop.

"Was there something else, Lieutenant?" The captain's bemused voice snapped Tasha out of her reverie. Everyone else had left the room.

"No, sir."

"Then return to your station."

"Yes, sir." Tasha quickly walked out, the captain shaking his head behind her.

'I'm positively addlepated. It's embarrassing,' Tasha thought with dismay. There must be some way to shake it off.

* * *

><p>Tasha rocked back and forth from her heels to the balls of her feet. She tapped her fingers on the keypad of the main holodeck and consulted the time – 13:59. At 14:00 exactly, Worf's imposing bulk appeared around the curve of the corridor.<p>

"Lt. Yar."

"Lt. Worf. Thanks for helping me beta-test these new security drills." He gave her a curt nod. Tasha went on. "I'll give you a quick rundown, though the security teams will have full case studies ten minutes before each test begins. There are three scenarios: a mining colony, a science lab, and an urban jungle. The goal is to use finesse and on-the-spot problem solving skills. There are friendlies and hostiles, and you lose points for hurting the good guys." She tapped the keypad, and three lines of text scrolled into view, blinking on and off. "Which one do you want to start with?"

"The urban jungle."

"Sounds good to me." Tasha touched the keypad again. "Computer: run Yar Security Test beta-three, access code epsilon gamma blue."

A blip of acknowledgment, and then the computer's feminine voice announced, "Program complete. You may enter when ready."

The holodeck doors slid open on a green and gray landscape choked with vegetation and swirling with mist. Worf and Tasha stepped through and were immediately enveloped in dank, fetid air.

"Spooky," Tasha remarked. "They did a great job."

"They?" asked Worf, his lips curled back in revulsion.

"La Forge and Data. I asked them for their help with some refinements. I can program your basic forest, but I don't have the facility to produce this level of ambiance and depth."

"Perhaps they have been overenthusiastic with the smell."

"They were like two kids in a candy store. I told them to help me make it scary, and they delivered." The two officers were creeping forward in the gloom, half-crouched under the canopy of enormous leaves and twisted vines. A rustle ahead made both stop and crouch lower. After a quick gestured exchange, they sought cover behind the sap-slimy trunk of a rough-barked tree.

"We have to find a target object and carry it safely to base," Tasha whispered. "I haven't decided yet if I should provide a map or make the teams reconnoiter."

A sudden rush of wings, and the air was filled with bats, squeaking and flapping as they spiraled by. Worf and Tasha covered their faces with their arms.

"Ugh, gross. We put in several surprises. I want the security staff jumpy, but to hold fire. I'm hoping to cure some itchy trigger fingers," Tasha said.

Worf raised an eyebrow.

"It's an expression," Tasha explained. "It means someone who is quick to fire first and ask questions later."

"Ah. There is no expression in Klingon for what we consider to be a natural trait."

They moved forward again, silently, their boots squelching as the ground grew swampier.

"There's the settlement," whispered Tasha, pointing to a gleam of lights in the distance. "Friendlies will be armed with knives or clubs. Hostiles will have disruptors."

Worf flashed a feral grin. "Nice program."

"Set phasers on light stun. Setting 1 will take out hostiles in this scenario." They both unholstered their side arms and clicked the settings. They shared a quick nod, and set off for the town.

Urban was a misnomer – the settlement seemed to have been crudely chopped out of the jungle with little more than an axe and spade. As they neared the sodium lamps set in a circular clearing, they could see several domed structures half-submerged in the ground like the backs of sleeping tortoises, mottled green and brown and faintly phosphorescent.

"Underground dwellings," said Worf sotto voce.

"It's topnotch. I couldn't have done it alone," said Tasha.

The attack came without warning. A humanoid burst from the undergrowth, swinging a short club at Tasha's head. She ducked and wove, dropping her elbow on the attacker's forearm. The club fell with a faint splash. Two more humanoids had launched themselves at Worf, one aimed low to tackle his legs, the second brandishing a curved dagger. Worf leapt high and smashed two feet on the low man, and with a guttural growl, disarmed the second with a lightning quick grasp of his wrist and flick backwards.

"Stand down! We are Federation officers!" Tasha yelled, restraining the first humanoid, both of his arms twisted behind his back.

"Standing down, standing down! Don't hurt him," the computer-generated humanoid cried. Worf released his second attacker and the first rolled up slowly from the ground. "We thought you were with the marauders – they've overtaken the city," the alien finished.

"We're here to help," Tasha responded.

"They've stolen an energy converter that we desperately need. Our power supply will shut down in one hour if we don't retrieve it."

"That's our target object," Tasha said to Worf. To the alien, she asked, "Can you help us find it?"

"I think I know where they're holding it."

Tasha turned to Worf and gave him an exuberant thumbs-up and a manic grin, at which he rolled his eyes. Still, he looked approving – he and Tasha had always had the same ideas about what constituted fun. They followed the alien through the low door of a subterranean dwelling, taking the dimly lit descending staircase two steps at a time.

* * *

><p>Worf and Tasha had fanned out, hugging the edges of a wall running with rivulets of black liquid, phasers low in their hands. Worf stepped over a motionless body lying at an awkward angle on the floor. He bent and removed a disruptor pistol from the nerveless fingers. The two officers came together in front of a metal cabinet, and at a sign from Tasha; Worf thumbed the setting on his phaser and fired at the keypad lock. A shower of sparks, and the metal door popped ajar. Tasha took a tricorder from her holster and flipped it open, probing the cabinet.<p>

"Nothing explosive." She reached out and gingerly pushed the door fully open.

They both looked crestfallen when they saw the contents. Worf reached in and pulled out a bright yellow plastic duck with an orange bill and round blue eyes.

Tasha's eyes narrowed to slits. "Geordi."

Worf glared at the toy in disgust. "I am not amused," he growled.

Tasha scowled and holstered her tricorder. "He thinks he's a comedian or something. What a letdown. I'm gonna kill him when I see him."

"How do you know it was not Cdr. Data's doing?" Worf asked, turning over the innocuous toy in his hands.

Tasha pulled the rubber duck out of his grip and squeezed it. It wheezed out a two-tone squeak.

"Yes. Definitely La Forge," muttered Worf.

"Computer: arch," said Tasha, tossing the toy aside. It squeaked once as it hit the ground. A large beige console appeared overhead, and she removed a handheld controller from the wall. "I hope Geordi remembers that revenge is swift on this ship. What form it will take depends on how long it takes me to find the offending source code." She was swiping her finger over the display, her eyes scanning the readout.

"Up until that point, the program was ideal," commented Worf.

"Good. I suppose that means I should go easy on him."

"I did not say that. The anticlimax was quite enervating. La Forge must pay."

Tasha snorted a laugh. "A-ha. There you are, you little pest," she murmured. She began typing on the unit. "Worf, what was the name of that Klingon extern who worked with our Interspecies Ethics class at the Academy?" asked Tasha casually, her eyes on the small display screen.

A low, extremely quiet growl preceded Worf's terse answer. "K'ehleyr."

"That's it – K'ehleyr. God, she was beautiful. Smart, too. Funny. You were really far gone on her, weren't you?" Tasha glanced up, to see Worf's jaw working and a storm cloud gathering on his face. She figured that she had about two minutes of tolerance before the Klingon got violent.

"Why do you ask?" Worf snarled.

Maybe less than two minutes. "I just remember how flipped out you were."

"Klingons do not 'flip out.'"

"You know what I mean. I've never seen you get so worked up over anyone or anything since." She stole another glance at him. "Do you still keep in touch with her?"

"No!" Worf had bellowed the single word, and it echoed off of the holodeck walls. "She tried to," he added, in a more reasonable tone.

Tasha nodded comprehendingly. "Did the two of you ever . . ." she broke off suggestively.

"NO."

Tasha was unperturbed by Worf's belligerent tone. "But you wanted to?"

There was an edge of threat in Worf's gruff reply. "Lt. Yar, may I ask what purpose this line of questioning could possibly serve?"

Just about two minutes on the nose. "Computer, display target object," Tasha ordered. A glowing, spherical piece of machinery appeared in the open cabinet. "Now that's more like it. I'm going to have to go through the other two scenarios and make sure that Geordi doesn't have any more tricks up his sleeve." She tapped the keypad on the wall. "Computer: load Yar Security Test beta-one."

The dank equipment room vanished, briefly revealing the black walls and yellow projectors of the holodeck, only to be replaced by a desolate coppery field beside the yawning mouth of a mineshaft in the side of a low hill. Tasha began scrolling through the handheld controller once more. "I just wondered how you handled working with someone you liked in a romantic way," Tasha checked Worf's expression in her peripheral vision, her lashes lowered, and went on, "Without giving in to those impulses."

"Hmmmm." Worf folded his arms, looking around at the sun-baked landscape that swirled with clouds of yellow dust. "This one smells better."

"I suppose I'm asking for advice." Tasha bit her lip. That was probably too much information.

Worf didn't seem to notice. "At first, I will admit, I was gravely unsettled. But, as time went on, I remembered my responsibilities and put aside my feelings." He thought for a moment and added, "I also avoided her whenever possible."

"What about when you _had_ to work with her?"

"I suffered."

"Great. Remind me never to ask you for advice again. Computer, load Yar Security Test beta-two." The bright golden landscape disappeared, to be replaced by the coldly lit interior of a laboratory.

"Gladly. I much prefer to help you devise proper retribution for Lt. La Forge."

Tasha giggled. "You got it." She worked fast, four fingers flying over the keypad in her hand. "There, I think that does it." She replaced the controller in the wall of the console. "We programmed a multitude of variables, so there should be plenty of surprises, even for the last group that takes the test. If we were to run the jungle scenario again, the action would be completely different."

"Let us move on to something new."

"Fine with me. This lab is supposed to be a killer. None of the combatants are armed, but they know how to weaponize the chemicals that are lying around. If people get hit, the computer announces that they've been poisoned or burned or had their skin melted off or what have you. I think there are some explosive compounds, too."

"I am truly honored that you chose me to test the drills with you," Worf said eagerly.

Tasha smiled. "I can't take credit for all of it. The lab was Data's idea. He has a macabre side that you would never expect – he's always so gentle."

"Cdr. Data is quite the enigma."

"Computer: arch vanish." The cold white walls surrounded them completely. "Worf, do you think you'll ever get married?"

"What makes you ask?" Worf looked impatient.

"It's just a question," replied Tasha innocently.

He mulled it over for a moment. "I would never enter into an arrangement that would impede the advancement of my career."

"My thoughts exactly," agreed Tasha.

"However, with the right partner, under the right circumstances, I would consider it."

"But how can you be sure that it's the right person?"

A faint smile enlivened Worf's face. "I would just know."

"You're such a romantic," Tasha teased.

Worf shrugged. "Shall we begin?"

Tasha nodded. "Computer: run program."


	17. Chapter 17

Data and Tasha sat together in Ten-Forward, their heads bent over one PADD.

"Perhaps we should assign a smaller group to Lt. Jenkins. We could then give him a second duty, to aid in the walkthroughs on deck four," said Data.

"Good idea. The captain wants us to shave at least three minutes off of our time, so the more creative we get with the staff, the better," Tasha replied.

"I have noticed that you do not exhibit the same signs of nervousness that you did when we planned the first evacuation drills, though our task is more arduous this time."

"That was just wedding-night jitters – I'd never supervised the evacuation of an entire ship before. I'd assisted in plenty, but I'd never had to run the whole show, and certainly not on a ship of this size." Tasha touched the screen, and the readout displayed a new schematic. "Do we have enough officers assigned to the nursery?"

"Ensigns Brooks and Jekkai are both on the roster."

"That might not be sufficient. Maybe we should assign one more person." Tasha leaned her cheek on her hand. "You were really good with the children during that first drill. I've never met anyone so patient as you."

"Thank you. Perhaps it is a matter of perspective. I do not see children as largely different from adults."

"Don't sell yourself short. Maybe you're just great with kids." They were sitting side by side, and Tasha bumped Data's shoulder with hers.

"We could assign Nurse Ogawa."

"Yes, that works. She'd be on hand for any emergencies in that case, too." Tasha rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Y'know, we've been at this for a long while. My mind is pretty much shot."

"We should desist, then," replied Data, looking solicitous. "Shall we resume tomorrow at 1800 hours?"

"Affirmative. I think I'll go to my quarters and relax for a bit." Tasha pushed back her chair.

"Would you like company?"

Well, there it was. Tasha had been on a steady diet of Klingon stoicism for several days, limiting herself to seeing Data only on duty or in a group. The upcoming evacuation drill had necessitated working with him alone. She still felt butterflies in her stomach around him, but she was practicing the emotional equivalent of snapping off their little wings. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to suppress her feelings if she brought him to her room, but there was only one way to find out. If Worf could suffer through it without giving in, so could she.

"Sure, Data. C'mon."

They got up and walked out together. They didn't talk as they walked through the corridors and rode the turbolift, and Tasha was grateful for the rest. One never had to make small talk with Data.

They entered her quarters, and she gestured for him to sit down. Tasha walked over to the replicator. "Steamed soy milk." She took the cup from the slot and joined Data on the couch.

So far, so good, she thought, imagining a heavy brown fist methodically crushing the flitting butterflies. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," Data replied politely.

Tasha sipped her drink. Squash, squash, squash, she thought.

"Did I tell you how much Worf and I enjoyed the security drill in the science lab that you programmed for the holodeck?"

"It was not meant to be enjoyable, Tasha. It was intended to be challenging."

"I know – that's why it was so much fun."

Data looked skeptical. "That definition of fun is not a part of my reference files."

"Well, it should be. One time, when Worf and I were cadets, we spent a week at a security training facility on Martian Colony 3. It was cold, we got dirty, I came back covered in bruises, but we both agreed that it was the most fun we'd ever had on fall break."

"I do not believe that I would have shared your opinion, though in my case, I did not find intersession breaks to be diverting under any circumstances."

Tasha leaned back on the couch and put her feet up on an ottoman, balancing her cup on her chest. "The breaks were always bittersweet for me, too. When I was at the Academy, I was home. Where do you go home to when you're already home?"

Data nodded. "I encountered the same dilemma. I would endeavor to take on extra classes or independent study projects to fill the time. Failing that, I would stay on campus, completely alone."

"That was my first year. Fall break – a full week of sitting alone in my room and feeling sorry for myself." Tasha laughed.

"Is that a humorous memory?" Data asked in puzzlement.

"Not at all. It's sad, but it's so sad that it's funny."

"The humor completely escapes me," Data said doubtfully.

"Then let's talk about something else. What's your favorite memory from the Academy?"

Data looked equivocal. "I would not purport to arrange those memory files by preference. My matriculation began only three years after I had passed into sentience. I had great difficulty forming relationships with my classmates, who were all my elders by more than a decade. I did not have enough experience in dealing with humans to develop many friendships."

"I know exactly what you mean. I entered the Academy just four years after I was rescued, and I was still adjusting to life on Earth. It was a very difficult time." She put her cup down on the side table.

"Though I still struggle with the human factor, I have achieved greater success in relating to my comrades on the Enterprise then in any other environment that I have lived in," Data said contentedly.

"Ditto. I feel like the luckiest person alive, to be working on this ship and serving with this crew."

"I have already accumulated several favorite memories during my brief time aboard the Enterprise." Data fixed his golden eyes on Tasha's blue ones. "Some of them involve you."

One or two butterflies slipped out from under the fist and started flapping furiously.

He continued. "In the short time since we launched, I have bonded more closely with you and with Geordi than with any other being I have ever encountered."

Tasha did not reply. She was searching Data's face, and trying to quash the riotous fluttering in her belly. Data studied her face as well, and after several long moments had passed, he leaned forward to kiss her.

Tasha recoiled. "What are you doing?"

The look on his face mixed puzzlement and frustration. "I have seen that expression on your face before. I believed a kiss to be the appropriate response."

Tasha tsked. "Data, we've been over this ground already. I thought I made myself clear – I only want to be friends with you."

Data looked contemplative for a long minute, and then ventured to reply. "Forgive me if I offend you, but I do not believe you."

Tasha compressed her lips and looked discomfited.

"I know that humans take great offense to being accused of saying a falsehood, and that Starfleet officers have a duty to be persons of integrity. I have observed, however, that humans do not always tell falsehoods out of malice, and moreover, are not always aware of the disparity between what they think or feel and what they say." Data's voice was gentle but firm. "I have given a great deal of thought to the subject, and it is my hypothesis that you do not know for sure whether or not you wish to have a strictly platonic friendship with me."

Tasha's ire was up. "Well, you've misunderstood. You may think that you know my thoughts better than I know them myself, but you've got it all wrong. I know for a fact that we can only be friends. Any other relationship would be completely inappropriate, and would undermine both my authority and yours," she said huffily.

"Then you have also given the matter some thought?" Data asked placidly.

"At least as much as you have."

"Do my wishes factor at all into your deliberations?"

Tasha thought hard about her answer. She wanted to be kind, but saw no way around saying what would come across as antipathetic. "No."

"That seems unfair, do you not think?" Data asked reasonably.

"What would you have me say? I'm disregarding my own wishes, too, in a way. You can't always have what you wish for." Tasha frowned at Data, but he showed no reaction at all. She looked away and folded her arms. "I am trying to do the right thing."

"How have you arrived at that conjecture, that what you have decided is right? How do you know that your conclusion is the correct one, out of limitless possibilities? You have not performed an experiment to test the validity of your hypothesis." Data had remained imperturbable, sitting upright on the couch, and regarding Tasha's averted cheek.

"Are you suggesting that we experiment with a relationship that has potentially disastrous consequences? I'm not a lab rat," Tasha replied, turning back to him with an up-tilt of her chin.

Data looked briefly at a loss. "I do not see how a rodent infestation of a test environment has bearing on our discussion."

"It's an expression, Data – look it up!" Tasha said impatiently.

His eyes scanned back and forth as he inwardly accessed his reference files. "Ah – lab rat. Guinea pig. An ancient Earth custom of testing . . ."

"Yes, that's it," Tasha interrupted. "That's not me."

"I am not suggesting that we conduct an experiment which has the potential to injure you emotionally," replied Data, composed once more. "I am asking why you have rejected a possible corollary out of hand, without full, methodical consideration."

"In plain language, Data." Tasha was worn out from arguing. "What wishes of yours are you asking me to consider?"

Data sat silently as he endeavored to find the proper words. At length, he said, "As plainly as I can state it, we have reached a level of intimacy that I am not averse to pursue."

Tasha shook her head in exhaustion. That was his version of simplification? And then, his meaning dawned on her. "Are you saying that you like me?"

"Yes, of course."

"You know I like you, too. But I've said this before – I am not interested in anything but friendship with you. Romantic entanglements are out of the question for me right now, and that's final." Her tone was petulant, and Tasha was no longer sure whom she was trying to convince.

Data nodded pensively. "I posit that we could come to an understanding that would be amenable to both your wishes and mine."

"An understanding?"

"Yes. I believe that we could conduct an experiment with strictly defined parameters and evaluate the subsequent results." He was warming to the subject, and continued with enthusiasm. "If our experiment is unsuccessful, we could terminate it at any time. If it is successful, we would reap the rewards and peaceably resolve the impasse that we have reached."

Tasha tried to remain stodgy, but his interest was infectious. "Just what are you proposing?"

"At the Academy, there was a term for the understanding to which I refer." Data said and stopped, with a look of consternation.

"Go on."

"Several of my classmates made reference to being FWFs."

Tasha laughed. "I don't know what that is."

"It is an acronym," explained Data helpfully. Tasha shook her head. "It was a common term in the vernacular when I was a cadet." Her face was still a blank. Data looked prudish for a moment, and then continued. "It stands for friends who - "

"Oh!" Tasha chuckled good-naturedly. "We called it something else. It doesn't take long for slang to fall out of style."

"Then you are familiar with the type of relationship that I am propounding?"

A self-mocking smile appeared on her face. "I am very familiar with that type of relationship." Tasha became serious again. "But it doesn't usually work out between humans. One person inevitably develops stronger feelings than the other, and usually both people end up getting hurt."

"It is not possible for me to develop feelings for you, Tasha, or to be injured in that fashion," Data said apologetically.

"Then I guess we're safe, because I don't plan to lose my head over you." Tasha couldn't hold back her grin. The butterflies had regrouped and were tickling the fist into submission.

"Are you willing to embark on this experiment with me?" Data asked, taking one of Tasha's hands in his with unironic sincerity.

"First, we have to establish some ground rules." She didn't pull away.

"State your terms."

"Yes, well. Number one – we have to keep it a secret."

Data let her hand fall.

"Data, do you really want to know how the crew will react when they find out that the second officer and the security chief have a thing going on?"

Data seemed tempted. "No?"

"No, we are not going to know because they are not going to find out. We can't tell anyone. I won't even tell Counselor Troi. And you can't tell Geordi." A thought crossed her mind. "Especially not Geordi. Or anyone else. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Number two, no public displays of affection. No hand-holding, no kisses on the cheek in the hall, no nothing. When we're at work, everything is on the up-and-up."

"Agreed."

"No pet names. My name is Tasha, and I don't want to hear Sweetie or Dear or Honey or anything else annoying out of your mouth or you'll be sorry."

Data considered attempting a joke, but immediately thought better of it, looking at the glint in her eyes. "Yes, Tasha."

"No favoritism or deferential treatment. Our first duty is to the ship. No putting anyone else in danger to save each other."

"Of course. Should we draw up a contract? This is a significant number of stipulations for you to recall."

"Oh, I know you won't forget, and trust me, neither will I. Where was I? No cheesy dates. If I see one box of candy or a candlelit dinner or a bouquet of flowers, I promise I will throw them at your head."

"Agreed." Data was beginning to sound less sure of himself.

"If one of us wants to end our understanding, we both end it, no questions asked, no hard feelings."

"Also acceptable. Is that all?"

"No, and these are just the ground rules. I reserve the right to add conditions as they become necessary."

"So noted. Is there more?"

"Yes." Tasha hesitated, chewing her lower lip before going on. "No saying the L-word."

Data was stymied. "Larceny? Libel? Licentiousness?"

Tasha sighed. For someone with superior intellect, Data could be woefully obtuse. "No, the L-word is _love_, Data. We will not use it with each other."

She had touched a sensitive spot. Data suddenly looked utterly forlorn.

"I cannot use that word, as you are well aware. I am programmed to be truthful, and to say that I feel it would be untrue."

Tasha took both of Data's hands in hers. She smiled encouragement, and he slowly raised his head.

"I'm not asking you to be anything you aren't. I like you the way that you are, and I accept you for who you are." She slid her hands along his arms and clasped them behind his neck. "I don't feel any more capable of using that word than you do. You are my friend. I'd put my life on the line to protect you, and I know you'd do the same for me. That's what's important to me."

Data put his arms around Tasha's waist and pulled her closer. "Have we established the parameters of our experiment to your satisfaction?"

"Yes."

"And we agree to be . . ."

"Special friends," Tasha supplied.

"Special friends?" Data echoed.

"Yes." The butterflies were fluttering so hard, Tasha was sure that she could take flight.

"Then, may I kiss you?" Data asked seriously.

She raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty good place to start."


	18. Chapter 18

Three – Almost Like Being in Love

Tasha ran a round brush through the choppy yellow layers of her hair, watching her reflection in a full-length mirror. Beside her, Data used two flat brushes to plaster his hair straight back from his forehead. Tasha quelled a mischievous impulse to reach over and muss it up again.

"It's getting pretty long. Time to see Mr. Mot," commented Tasha, busy with her brush, turning her nose to one side and the other.

"Your last haircut was only seventeen days ago." Data ran a final smoothing pass with his brush and leaned close to the mirror, inspecting his uniform for strays.

"Look at it – it's a haystack. I swear it grows faster, the older I get." Tasha raked her fingers through her bangs, achieving a calculated disarray. "God, I'm starving! I need to eat something before I pass out." She crossed the living room to the replicator.

"So you said when we left the bridge. I did recommend that you eat first," Data reminded her.

"I couldn't wait," Tasha replied, throwing an arch look over her shoulder.

"No," Data assented. "You were quite adamant on that point."

"Can you blame me? I have to spend the whole day looking at you, without being able to touch you. After so many hours, I can't stand it anymore. I just have to have you." She crossed back over to him and leaned against his back, propping her chin over his shoulder. "I'm only human. I don't have the luxury of your freedom from longing."

"That is an incorrect supposition, Tasha. I am not free from the inclination to touch you. I practice a conscious restraint while we are on duty." Data turned to face her, holding her hips in both hands.

"I didn't know that. I thought you couldn't feel desire." She linked her arms lightly around his waist.

"Not as such. Nonetheless, I have become used to our physical intimacy, and I am well inclined to touch you when you are near."

"Well, that's downright sweet – I mean nice," Tasha corrected herself, avoiding a tedious explanation of the flavor versus the descriptive adjective. She stretched up and kissed his nose, and then walked back to the replicator. "I can't decide if I want Swiss on rye with Dijon mustard or mozzarella and basil on focaccia," she said, nibbling on a cuticle.

"You are deliberating between a cheese sandwich and a cheese sandwich," Data pointed out.

"It sounds stupid when you put it like that, when in fact, they are completely different," said Tasha indignantly. Data prudently did not reply. "Don't malign my cheese sandwiches. Cheese is the perfect food – it tastes good, it has a nice texture, and when you make it the real way, it makes the animal that produces it happy."

"How can you ascertain that?"

"I visited a farm once, when I was very little, couldn't have been more than three. The workers were milking the cows and goats, and I remember asking the farmer if that hurt them, and he said, no, it makes them happy. The animals low and cry if they're not milked on time." A shadow passed over her face. "That was before the gangs razed the farms. They wanted control of the food supply, and after the bombings, you had to use the replicators, which they controlled."

Data looked compassionately at Tasha's brooding face. Revelations about her past came infrequently, but when they did, they were often accompanied by an emotional closing off, or a backlash. He contemplated moving to embrace her, but in those moments, she often seemed to crave the illusion of being alone.

The door chime sounded. "Come in," said Tasha.

The doors parted for Geordi, who hurried straight into the room. "Just the man I wanted to see!" he announced, and, "Hey, Tasha."

"Hey, Geordi."

"Data, I have this crazy idea for boosting the efficiency of the hydrogen collectors, and I want to run it past you before I bring it to the assistant chief engineer. Well, not crazy, but definitely unconventional."

"Sounds intriguing," replied Data, his interest piqued.

"Will you come with me to examine the bussard collectors? I'll show you what I mean."

"Of course. We can leave immediately."

"Tasha, you're welcome to come, too," offered Geordi.

She laughed. "Are you being serious?"

"I was trying to be polite," Geordi replied.

"Ah – no. Thanks. You boys go on ahead. I have just enough time to eat dinner before my meeting with Dr. Crusher."

"Suit yourself. C'mon, Data." Geordi headed for the door.

"Goodbye, Tasha," Data said neutrally.

"See you later," she replied casually.

The two left, the doors closing on Geordi's mile-a-minute exposition. Tasha turned back to the replicator. "Caprese sandwich." She took the materialized plate to her dining table and sat down, a dreamy smile playing over her face. She thought back over the last 45 minutes and sighed blissfully. The past few days had brought her a deep-down happiness that she had never before felt. She hadn't realized how much energy she'd been expending in trying to suppress her feelings for Data until she'd stopped doing it. Now she had plenty of energy to expend in much more pleasant ways. She sighed again and took a bite of her sandwich. Data was a phenomenal paramour, and he had so far never turned down an invitation to go to bed with her. Her smile broadened. Not that they had ever made it to the bed this time, but it was dangerous to have a lover who never said no. She worried a little about overindulging, and she wondered if he would ever initiate – not that she'd given him a chance to thus far.

In a short time, she'd finished her dinner and cleaned up, and was ready for her meeting slightly early. She hoped Beverly wouldn't mind.

"Computer, where is Dr. Crusher?"

"Dr. Crusher is located in her office."

Early is better than late, thought Tasha, and headed for the door.

* * *

><p>"Hi, Tasha."<p>

"Hi, Doctor."

"I'm almost ready for you. Just have a seat and I'll be right with you." Beverly pulled a tricorder from her lab coat pocket and turned back to her monitor.

Wesley was lounging in one of the vestibule chairs, and Tasha sat down opposite him. "Hi, Wes."

"Hi, Lieutenant. Do you want to see what I'm working on for my advanced warp theory class?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Sure." One couldn't exactly say no to a grin like his. Tasha liked Wesley, though she sometimes felt a little in awe of him. He was the same age that she'd been when she'd escaped Turkana IV, and she couldn't help but compare in her mind the savage girl she'd been then to the intelligent, self-possessed boy before her.

He picked up the PADD in his lap and showed it to her. "They're plans for a matter/antimatter reaction assembly on a much smaller scale than what we use on a starship. This could sustain a warp field on a vessel as small as a photon torpedo."

Tasha looked at the PADD with uncertainty. "I've gotta tell you, I'm glad those days are behind me. If I didn't have a knack for memorization, I'd have never passed the warp theory section of the Starfleet entrance exam, let alone my physics classes."

"It's okay, Lieutenant; you can tell me if I'm boring you," said Wesley considerately, "I'm used to it." Tasha laughed guiltily.

Inside her office, Beverly was singing while she worked. "What a day this has been, what a rare mood I'm in, why, it's almost like being in love…."

"Hey, your mom has a nice voice," Tasha remarked to Wesley.

"Yeah, she's a huge fan of twentieth century musical theater. She used to act in shows, and sing and dance and everything." He suddenly clapped a hand on his mouth. "Oops. I'm not supposed to tell anyone that."

"Why not? I think it's great. The doctor should put on a musical here. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"No way. She'd make me audition," Wesley said darkly.

"Tasha, I'm just about finished here – shall we get started on the review?" Beverly called.

"Sure." Tasha waved to Wesley and walked into to office. "What was that song you were singing?"

Beverly looked abashed. "It's from one my favorite musicals, Brigadoon, about a magic Scottish town that appears once every hundred years."

"How romantic!"

"It is. The song is a standard in its own right." Beverly sang it again, in a pleasing, unaffected contralto.

Tasha applauded. "I really like it. You should put that play on here – wouldn't that be fun?"

Beverly seemed to have become embarrassed after her little display of talent. "Do you think anyone would want to do it?"

"Sure! I mean, not me; I can't sing or dance, but I would come to see the show."

"What do you mean, you can't dance?" Beverly scoffed. "From what I hear, you are an expert in martial arts. If you can coordinate those kinds of movements, you can do choreography."

"That's nice of you to say." Tasha placed her PADD on the table. "We may as well get started."

"Agreed." Beverly touched the screen of her monitor, and they got down to work.

* * *

><p>Tasha was cruising though the second half of her bridge duty, feeling irrepressibly bubbly. She tapped the status reports scrolling on her console, in rhythm to the tune cycling through her head.<p>

"May I ask for a modicum of peace on the bridge, Lieutenant?" Every head turned to regard the captain at the sound of his stern rebuke.

"Sir?" Tasha inquired.

"You are whistling, Lieutenant. I ask that you desist."

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realize that I was whistling, sir," Tasha stammered quickly.

"That's quite all right." Jean-Luc recognized the tune – one of Beverly's favorites. He had seen her sing it in a summer stock production, the year before she had married Jack. She had looked quite fetching in her bonnet and plaids, her long flaming hair perfect for the part.

"Sir?" Will's voice contained a hint of irony.

"Yes, Number One?"

"If you'd like to set a good example, perhaps you shouldn't hum."

The captain leveled a look at the first officer, whose smile did not abate. "I didn't realize that I was humming. Pardon me." Picard smiled. "It's a catchy little tune."

"That must be why it's catchy – it's contagious," replied Will, the glint in his eyes undimmed.

Tasha hid her smile behind one hand. She continued to tap through the reports deck by deck. "There's a smile on my face for the whole human race . . ." She broke off the sound of her own breathy soprano, horrified. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what's wrong with me today," she said in dismay.

"I'm sure nothing is wrong with you, Lieutenant. Just try to keep it down," the captain replied.

"Yes, sir." Tasha cleared her throat and clamped her mouth shut, looking straight down at the console.

Deanna and Will exchanged a look across the captain's chair.

"I should feel reassured, if my chief of security is in an unusually good mood," commented Picard.

* * *

><p>"I'm really glad that I came to you the other day, Data. I'm just kicking myself for not doing it sooner." Geordi was leaning on Data's chair, behind the sweep of the library computer in Data's quarters.<p>

"Your initial theory was sound, Geordi. If you had compensated for the limited range of ionizing energy that the nacelle endcaps are configured to charge, your calculations would have been entirely accurate." Data worked at the computer with both hands.

"But I didn't. That's why I should've come to you earlier."

"There is no harm done. Your presentation to Asst. Engineer Shimoda will be suitably convincing and thorough, and I am sure he will move it on to the chief engineers."

"I hope so."

"You may rest assured, Geordi," Data said confidently.

Geordi gave him an appraising half smile. "You know, you've been in a really good mood lately."

"I?" said Data quizzically. "I was not aware that I could be in a good mood. Would that not require human feelings?"

"Not necessarily," Geordi mused. "Mood is partially a response to stimuli, and you have that capability. Mood can be a mixture of environment, a procession of events, even climate, as well as your reaction to all of those things. I can't see why you shouldn't experience a good mood, just like anyone else."

"Hm." It was a short, high-pitched sound that Data made whenever a discovery especially struck him. "I am in a good mood. Thank you for pointing it out, Geordi."

"Anytime," Geordi said, slapping Data on the back. "Hey, maybe this means you can be in a bad mood, too,"

"I hope not. I do not relish the idea," Data said earnestly.

* * *

><p>Tasha stroked the dark head that rested on her chest. "Do you think we're ready for tomorrow?" she asked, her voice soft.<p>

"I do. We have thoroughly prepared for the evacuation drill. I have every confidence in your supervisory skills." Data's voice was as quiet.

She playfully mussed his hair, pushing it over his forehead. "I know. I just like hearing you say it."

Data raised himself on one elbow, his pale chest glowing faintly in the dark of Tasha's bedroom. "You take an interest in altering the appearance of my hair that might be considered obsessive, Tasha."

She giggled through her nose. "You don't know how hard it is to resist messing it up when we're around other people. I just want to . . ." She put both hands in his hair and scrubbed her fingers through it, creating a riot of peaks and valleys.

Data patiently submitted. "Are you quite finished?" he asked tolerantly.

"Yes, sir," she replied, with a mocking smile.

"Very well. Then, I would like to try something new." Data pushed himself down the surface of the bed.

"I like the direction this is going."

"I thought that you might. If you would allow me to manipulate your leg thusly, at approximately a 45-degree angle, on my shoulder, so . . ." He bent his head and stopped talking. Tasha drew in her breath sharply, grabbed a handful of sheet and twisted it in her fingers. She made another involuntary sound.

"Where did you learn to do _that_?" she asked, a little breathless.

"It is part of my programming."

"Your programmers must've had a healthy love life. And at least one of them had to be a woman." Data lowered his head again, and she gave another gasp. "You're going to kill me, or I'm going to scream," said Tasha brokenly, her eyes closing of their own accord.

Data lifted his head again. "I believe that only one of those is a probable outcome."

"Oh, I think you know exactly what outcome to expect here," she replied impishly. "And after that, you are going to search your programs for any other such 'something new's, and we're gonna see how many of them we can try out in the three hours before you're due back on the bridge."

"An intriguing proposition." Data bent again to his task.

"King of the understatement," Tasha whispered. The only sounds after that were her helpless yelps and gasps, and the thump of her fist on the mattress.

The door chime sounded.

They both froze, Tasha biting back the string of expletives that immediately leapt to her lips. "Computer: mute intercom," she managed to get out.

Two sets of wide eyes stared at each other in the darkness.

"What do we do?" whispered Tasha, her voice panicked.

"I do not know." Data was equally at a loss.

"Well, you have to hide." Tasha's panic was increasing.

He looked at her in frustration. "What if the person is looking for me? We both have our communicators in the room."

A choice word exploded from Tasha, and at Data's reproachful look, she altered it. "Shoot, shoot, shoot! If that's the case, we're busted." Data's frustrated look intensified. "I mean our secret is out. Data: hide in the bathroom. And get dressed." They both scrambled out of bed, Data gathering his neatly folded pile of clothes from the floor. Tasha looked and felt around in the darkness before realization struck. "Blast me! I already put my uniform in the cleaning unit."

The door chime sounded again. "Come in," answered Tasha automatically, ignoring Data's look of outraged disbelief. "What was I supposed to do?" she whispered hoarsely. They pantomimed and mouthed a fast, argumentative exchange, violently gesturing. Data entered the bathroom and threw her a terrycloth robe. 'Thank god,' she thought, putting her arms through the sleeves. The rest of her clothes were in the living area, which was now ostensibly occupied. She gestured for Data to stand inside the shower and draw the curtain. The exasperation on his face was boundless. Tasha lapped the edges of the robe tightly in front, pulling it closed under her chin, and knotted the sash. She took a deep breath and walked through the door of the bedroom, into the living room.

Will Riker stood in the center of the room, his face suspicious. "Am I disturbing you, Lieutenant?"

"No, Commander. I was . . .umm . . . just about to take a shower. What can I do for you?" Tasha struggled to get her voice under control.

"I just received a last-minute communiqué from Starbase 175. A freight ship carrying a large group of Nausicaan miners has docked, and the Starbase security staff is encountering some inter-species tensions. They're concerned about the location of a few of our holding rooms and their proximity to the quarters assigned to the miners. They'd like to make some changes."

"Understood, sir. If you give me five minutes, I can be ready to work."

Will cocked his head at her. "Perhaps that's not necessary. I can send a subspace message, asking for their specific changes. There should be time to implement them if we meet tomorrow morning, say 0700 hours?"

"That would give me enough time to update the destination coordinates and brief the team leaders at 0800 hours, as long as we work fast, sir."

"Agreed. See you at 0700, then, Tasha." Riker still looked unsettled. "Sorry to have disturbed you."

"You didn't, Commander. Have a good night."

"Good night." Will left the room.

Tasha exhaled noisily and released the lapels of her robe, which she'd been unconsciously clutching throughout the conversation. She walked back into the bedroom. "You can come out, Data. He's gone."

Data stepped stiffly out of the shower, fully clothed except for his boots, his hair inexpertly pushed back into place. "That was a most undignified incident," he said primly.

"That was too close. I about had a heart attack." Tasha laughed with relief. "My body can't handle the shock of too many 'something new'."

Data stepped close to her. "We were going to find out exactly what you could handle," he reminded her, untying the sash of her robe.

"Yes, we were. And you're going to start exactly where you left off," she replied, unfastening his uniform front.

* * *

><p>Will strode through the hall, lost in thought. Tasha's quarters were at the opposite end of the ship from his, and it took some time for him to traverse the distance. He had walked around the perimeter of the ship to get there, stopping by the captain's quarters to deliver the update, and Will figured that there had been enough time for someone to leave. It had taken Will longer to get there from his quarters than it did to get back, straight through the center of the deck. He waited until he was inside his quarters again to pose the question he had asked just before he'd left – he didn't want to react to the answer in public.<p>

"Computer: where is Lt. Cdr. Data?"

He received exactly the same response that he had the first time.

"Lt. Cdr. Data is located in the quarters of Lt. Yar."

Will heaved a disappointed sigh. He had earlier thought himself fortunate to find them together, so that he could brief them both simultaneously. He had also thought nothing of being informed that one bridge officer was in another's quarters at 2000 hours – they all dropped in on each other with regularity.

He had not expected to find Tasha alone in her darkened room, wearing a bathrobe with evidently nothing on underneath, from the look of the death grip she'd had on the opening. She'd made no indication that anyone else was there. And honestly, maybe Data hadn't been there – there had been enough time for the second officer to have left and even come back again in the time that it had taken for Will to walk there and back.

But there was something else. Tasha's face had been flushed, her lips congested, with a dewiness to her skin, and even in the dark, Will could see that her eyes were dilated, large black disks encircled thinly by bright blue. She'd looked . . . he was very, very familiar with that look on a woman. She glowed, like a woman in love, not just in love, but in the midst of love.

Will tried to dismiss it, but there was only one logical conclusion that he could reach. Data _had_ been there, the whole time, which would imply that . . .

Will shook his head. Was that even possible? If it was, more power to his android friend. For all of her abrasiveness, Tasha was an extremely attractive woman, and a catch for anyone. If there was something going on, more power to both of them. Will smiled. That would explain the preternatural optimism and effervescence that had emanated lately from the usually no-nonsense security chief. And he could perfectly understand if they wanted to keep it private – the same dilemma had faced Will and Deanna, and they'd decided that a friendship would be best while they were serving on the same ship. Not that they hadn't had some slip-ups. Some very enjoyable slip-ups.

Will stroked his chin thoughtfully. He had no reason to share their secret with anyone, if indeed there were something going on. He couldn't help but feel happy for them, and just a little jealous.

_A/N: Almost Like Being in Love – Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe_


	19. Chapter 19

Starbase 175 was a giant silver mushroom rotating slowly in the black void of space, suspended in orbit above Marlonia's blue and magenta sphere, afar off her pocked gray moons. As the starbase turned, the dock appeared like a hungry mouth, ready to engulf the Enterprise. Six of the bridge crew manned duty stations to complete the docking procedure.

"Coming into position," Geordi announced from the helm.

"Stand by to dock," ordered Riker.

"Ready to dock, sir," affirmed Data.

"Engage mooring beams," Riker continued, "and lock on."

"Aye, sir," Geordi responded. "Docking complete." There was a ponderous sound as the ship was secured.

"Well done," praised Picard. "Staff meeting in my ready room. Lt. La Forge, remain at the helm. Number One, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir," they responded. Worf, Tasha, and Data followed the captain. They stood at attention as Picard sat down behind his desk. He scrolled though several screens on his monitor, sweeping the surface with one finger, and then turned the computer to face the trio.

"I have read the reports from Starbase security about their Nausicaan guests. There have been frequent updates. The miners are reluctant to do as they're told and stay where they're ordered. The situation is under control at the moment, but it could become volatile." He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled quickly through his mouth. "I would like this drill to proceed as routinely as possible. Have you prepared for contingencies?"

Worf and Tasha looked to Data. The second officer replied, "We have, sir. Holding areas for our most critical crewpersons, the civilians, and the children have been relocated far from the Nausicaans' quarters and all common areas. All non-com and commissioned personnel will be armed with type-2 phasers. Medical teams are on alert for the possibility of quick deployment on the Starbase and in sickbay. Once they have retaken their stations on the Enterprise, transporter personnel will be standing by to beam back essential crew as soon as the evacuation drill is complete."

The captain nodded. "Very thorough, Mr. Data. I hope it will be enough. I have had personal experience in dealing with Nausicaans. At ease," he said as an afterthought. The three officers relaxed their stances and folded their arms behind their backs. "They can become rather badly behaved at the slightest provocation. An idle group of bored miners might be eager to provide the provocation, if it is lacking." He ran a hand over the back of his bald pate. "I can personally attest to the danger that they may pose, should a confrontation arise." The three senior officers exchanged glances. "I would ask that you proceed with extreme caution this morning. With any luck, no one will encounter any of the miners. Starbase 175 is a vast facility, and it is reasonable to assume that our paths will not cross." The captain raised serious eyes to each of the officers in turn. "Let us hope that they will not seek us out to supply themselves with diversion."

"If they do, we'll be ready, sir," Tasha assured him.

Picard regarded her steadily, his gray eyes introspective. "I certainly hope so. Impress my message upon your team leaders. Dismissed."

* * *

><p>Data, Worf, and Tasha stood over the command console in Starbase 175's control center. Six security officers in mustard uniforms stood loosely clumped together at a slight distance, now and then putting their heads together for brief, murmured conversation. Several starbase command and sciences officers occupied stations throughout the center. Data's clinical voice carried over the hum of talk and computer noise. "Transporter Chief: have all transporter personnel completed final evacuation maneuvers?"<p>

The chief's voice came through the command console. "Aye, sir. All transporter personnel have beamed to section 17-delta. Evacuation complete."

"Security to Enterprise," Tasha called.

"Picard here."

"All decks cleared, sir. Request permission to begin re-embarkation."

"Granted. Good work, all of you." Data, Worf, and Tasha exchanged anticipatory looks. "And you bested your previous time by three minutes and fifteen seconds. Commendable," the captain finished.

There was a palpable release of tension in the room. Tasha shone a smile on her security officers.

"Transporter Chief: prepare to beam all transporter personnel back to their stations on the Enterprise," Data ordered.

There was no response.

"Transporter Chief: acknowledge."

Silence. The relief that had flooded the room a moment before swiftly evaporated.

"Transporter personnel: report."

"Cdr. Data, we just heard a commotion outside of our location, Starbase transporter room two. The chief and Grant have gone to investigate."

"Chief Kowen, report. Ensign Grant, report." Data's voice betrayed no hint of emotion, and was greeted by silence.

Tasha exchanged a look with Worf. "Take your team to section 17-delta," she ordered.

"Aye, sir." The Klingon nodded at two of the security officers, who peeled away from the others and followed him to the exit.

The command console crackled. "Sir, we have a problem in transporter room two. Request security assistance, I say again, request security assistance!"

"On the double!" barked Tasha. Worf broke into a run, flanked by his team. Tasha tapped her comm. badge. "Captain, we have a situation developing. We need someone in the transporter room on the Enterprise now."

Back on the bridge, Picard turned to Riker. "On my way, sir," the first officer said and strode briskly to the turbolift.

"Keep this line open, Lieutenant," Picard ordered.

"Aye, sir."

In a short time, Riker stood at the operator console in the main transporter room of the Enterprise. "Starbase 175 – report," he ordered.

"Cdr. Data, are you also monitoring my signal?" Worf's bass voice asked over the comm.

"Affirmative," Data replied.

"Sir, we are approaching Starbase transporter room two." Worf crouched over the forms of two mustard clad men lying motionless on the floor in the corridor. "Kowen and Grant are down. Both are breathing." Worf rose. "Both of their communicators are missing."

"The Nausicaans will not be able to make use of them," Data's neutral voice came over the comm.

"But it will slow down our transport time," replied Will. "I'm locking in on their bio-signals now. Energizing."

Worf took a step back as the two men dematerialized. He addressed his team. "Set phasers for maximum stun." He tapped the computer interface on the wall. "Entering transporter room two." The three officers moved cautiously through an open archway, rounding a corner to approach the closed door, through which they could hear muffled grunts and cries. The officers formed up tightly and burst through the door at a signal from Worf. "Stand down!" he roared. Inside, he counted at least a dozen towering Nausicaans in the melee, outnumbering the seven remaining transporter personnel. They all fought hand-to-hand, and the humans were at a clear disadvantage. Worf took careful aim with his phaser.

"Hold your fire, sir!" yelled an ensign, dodging under the grasp of his oversize assailant. "If you hit the transport equipment, we're SOL!"

Worf growled, but the ensign was right. The space was too small and too full of moving bodies to get off a clear shot.

"Hands off!" another officer bellowed, slapping at the gnarled hand of a miner who clawed at his communicator.

"No talk, no beam-out!" The Nausicaan's voice sounded as if he'd scraped his words over metal gravel.

Tasha's voice burst from Worf's communicator. "Worf, I'm detecting a group of Nausicaans approaching from section 10-gamma. About 20 life forms, headed straight for you, moving fast." In the control center, Tasha turned to the officer at her side. "Cdr. Tural, recommend that we drop force fields in sections 12- and 18-gamma, and see if we can't trap them before they escalate the conflict."

"Affirmative." The Vulcan commander tapped out commands on the interface of the console.

Back in the transporter room, Worf and his team had entered the fray. "We must reach the operator console – cover me," he ordered the two security officers. They charged towards the console. Three aliens broke away and ran to engage them, and then dropped in their tracks, stunned at point-blank range. Worf soon stood behind the operator console, the ensigns flanking him with phasers raised. Two more Nausicaans launched themselves at the team and were mown down at close range.

"Stop this fighting immediately! You will all be confined to the brig for attacking Starfleet officers!" Worf roared.

"No fight – we play. We good friends," bit off one of the miners, holding a mustard clad engineer in a headlock. The ensign was punching repeatedly at what would have been the kidneys on a human. "More friends come to play."

"End this, peons. Transporter personnel – make your way to the pad. Now!" Worf ordered.

"Crusher to transporter room two." The doctor's voice came over the operator console. "We've encountered a force field. We're trapped at section…" Beverly paused to check the signage on the wall. "18-gamma."

Tasha's voice carried over Beverly's comm. badge. "Doctor, you're in danger. The force field is up to prevent 20 belligerents from reaching the transporter room."

Beverly checked the reactions of her medical team. Nine officers in various states of fear and surprise looked back at her. "We saw no one, Lieutenant."

"Then they're hiding. Sensors aren't detecting any movement." In the control center, Tasha turned to Tural. "Commander, are there any blind spots on the Starbase?"

"Proximity to the transformers could mask a bio-signal," he replied.

"Doctor, be prepared to defend yourselves," Tasha warned.

"Enterprise, can you beam my medical team back to the ship?" Beverly asked, backing away from the force field and darting her eyes warily around the empty hallway. Her medical team was backing into each other, forming a back-to-back huddle and exchanging alarmed looks.

"I'm a little busy at the moment!" On the ship, Riker watched as two forms materialized on the transporter pad: an engineer with a Nausicaan wrapped around his legs. "Worf! Lock this situation down now!" Riker yelled, sweeping the sequence initiators with one hand. The pair dematerialized.

In the control center, the speakers on the command console were alive with the sounds of fighting and of terse orders, as security teams were deployed all over the starbase. A new voice cut through the din.

"Ogawa to security."

"Yar here."

"Lieutenant, we've barricaded ourselves in a JAG hearing room in section 10-alpha. We sealed off our holding space when…um…three Nausicaans tried to enter." There was controlled panic in her disembodied voice. "Sir, they're trying to break the lock."

"Who is with you?" Tasha asked, though she knew what the answer should be. She hoped that she was wrong.

"Ensigns Brooks and Jekkai, and 30 children."

All of the children whose parents were on duty. Tasha looked to Data, who gave her a resolute nod. "I'm on my way. Have your phasers ready and set them at maximum stun. The miners are unarmed. If they break through, blast them."

"Yes, sir. Ogawa out."

Tasha motioned to her security team and the three left the control center at a jog. Beverly's voice came over the comm.

"Security, we are trapped here. Request assistance immediately."

"Doctor, we can't reach you. If we lower the force fields, we endanger our transporter staff, and then no one's getting out of here fast. Data, have the walkthroughs begun?"

His dispassionate voice answered. "Re-embarkation has begun on decks four and six. I will order any available operations officers to man transporters."

"You read my mind. Doctor, we'll get you out as soon as we are able to."

In the corridor, Beverly nodded. "Crusher out." She turned to her medical team, and a strange disconnection came over her. "We're in an indefensible position. We must move somewhere that at least has some cover." She was inwardly surprised at the insouciance of her voice; outwardly, she felt as cold as ice. "Form up in three lines: four, three, and three," she ordered, gesturing beside and behind her. The doctors, nurses, and medical assistants broke from their knot and obeyed. "Back and front rows, drop the med kits." They clattered to the floor. "Take out your phasers. Back row – guard the rear. Don't shoot at us, please." She gave them all a little smile, and they tried to respond in kind. "Middle row, we hopefully won't need your med kits, but hold on to them. Okay, let's move out, back the way we came." They all inched forward, away from the humming force field.

Tasha and her team rounded the corner of the hallway and slowed, cautiously approaching the open archway of the JAG area. At her gesture, all three put their backs to the wall and drew their phasers. "On my signal," Tasha mouthed. They entered the waiting room as a body. Two Nausicaans were methodically smashing a chair against the closed hearing room door, while a third punched at the keypad lock, all the while taunting the people hidden inside.

"Step away from the door," Tasha ordered.

"We play with hu-man offspring. Play game." One Nausicaan smashed at the door with a chair again, and then flung the twisted metal away. He easily topped two meters, crested by a bushy mass of coarse black hair, two braids tied off with red cord. The bony ridges of his face and three protruding tusks gave him a terrifying appearance. Tasha recalled the captain's warning and fully understood his caution – the profile on this alien species was nothing compared to being confronted with the real thing.

"Step away from the door. Failure to comply will be perceived as a hostile act." Tasha raised her phaser, her security officers following suit.

The three aliens turned to them and approached them menacingly. "We step 'way. Play with you instead. Better sport." The talkative one seemed to be the leader. "Two females. We play good game."

"Stay right where you are. This is your last warning. We will open fire," Tasha ordered, raising her voice to match her growing anger.

She had a sudden sense of danger – a flicker of a change in the leader's focus from their position to just behind them, and she spun around. She met the charge of three more Nausicaans head on, firing almost instinctively. One went down. She heard a guttural yell as the three behind her charged.


	20. Chapter 20

Captain Picard sat alone on the bridge, the comm. alive with the sounds of conflict on the Starbase below. He monitored chatter from Starbase control, his security chief's open comm. channel, and the personnel walking through the emergency outlets on the Enterprise. There she floated, mighty and serene in her dock, a sleeping giant with the power to decimate a mere freight ship, if only the fight were in space. Of course, there was no reason for a fight at all. The Nausicaans were not enemies of the Federation, and had no hope of besting them in a war. Instead, they menaced Picard's crew as a futile exercise, a posture, out of boredom or primitive arrogance. The miners' callous disregard for the need of others to congress in peace might lead to serious injury, even death. But the aliens would know that punishment from Starfleet might be at worst imprisonment, a fair risk for the satisfaction of jeering at the more powerful adversary. Picard felt disgust and righteous anger at the pointless danger his crew now faced.

"Crusher to Enterprise."

The captain flipped open his comm. panel cover. "Picard here."

"Sir, no one can come to our aid on the Starbase. We haven't seen the miners that are supposedly in this area, but we haven't searched the engine room. There's nowhere for us to hide – we'd be sitting ducks in any of the open rooms." Beverly paused, and then went on in a whisper. "We're trapped. What do we do?"

"Both Starbase and Enterprise personnel have their hands full, doctor. They will help you as soon as they can break away." Picard felt the hollowness of his words. A long silence followed.

"Jean-Luc, I could use some captainly advice right about now." Beverly sounded good humored, despite the bleak situation.

"Don't let fear get the best of you or your team. Imagine that you're headed into surgery – you need that relaxed alertness now." Picard spoke loud enough for the medical team to hear him through the doctor's communicator. "Give yourselves room to move. You retain the advantage as long as there is distance between you and the unarmed Nausicaans."

"We have to see them, first, right?"

"When you do see them, don't wait for an invitation. I order you to open fire."

"Yes, sir." Her voice was as still as a frozen pond.

"Beverly," Jean-Luc began, lowering his voice.

"Captain," a hairline crack appeared in the ice. "We have visual contact. Crusher out."

"Beverly!" She was gone. Picard sat alone in his chair on the deserted bridge.

Down on Starbase 175, Beverly took even breaths through her nose. "Just like going into surgery," she said under her breath.

The Nausicaans emerged into the hallway, some 30 meters ahead of the medical staff. At an intense look from their CMO, the officers tightened their formation, standing shoulder to shoulder. Beverly took in the sight of the aliens: expressionless bony facio-skeletal structure, tusks protruding over the mouth, shocks of black hair, powerful arms, more and more of them, stalking into view. She could barely hear for the sound of her heart pounding out of her chest.

She tapped her comm. badge with her left hand, her phaser low in her right. "Crusher to Enterprise. If you can beam us out of here, now would be a good time." She glanced to either side. The faces of the nurses and med assistants beside her were resolute, but she saw sweat beading on lips and foreheads. She faced forward.

"Stay right where you are," she ordered. No reaction from the towering aliens as they continued to advance.

Beverly drew a breath through clenched teeth. "Fire."

* * *

><p>"Gah!" Worf pounded the operator console as aliens and humans writhed on the transporter pad like teeming fish caught in net. "Men, get behind me! Get off the pad! Disengage!"<p>

Two officers immediately slipped away from the fracas, one with a kick to the head of the Nausicaan lying nearest him. The other five struggled to escape the mass of bodies. Humans and aliens grunted and reached, missing more than connecting, aim gone in the heat of the melee.

A growl started to rumble from Worf's curled lips. It grew to a low roar, and then coalesced into words. "Get down!" Thumbing the setting on his phaser, he aimed a wide beam at the heads of the alien aggressors. The Nausicaans were felled like trees, amongst a shower of sparks from damaged equipment.

The transporter crew picked themselves up off the floor as Worf stomped to the transporter pad and began dragging bodies off and pitching them aside like water-soaked logs. "You will perform the fastest repairs you have ever made in your lives," he ordered. The yellow-uniformed men stood up slowly, rubbing bruises and feeling themselves for injuries. A snarl exposed Worf's jagged teeth. "You have three minutes! MOVE!" He turned to the security team. "If one of those pieces of _pahtk_ so much as twitches, stun him."

Worf smacked his comm. badge. "Lt. Worf to Cdr. Riker."

"Riker here."

"Situation under control, sir."

"Acknowledged." On the Enterprise, Will considered the options. Skirmishes had broken out all over the starbase. Whom to rescue first?

* * *

><p>"Hold your ground," Beverly found her voice steady and loud once more. The hallway was littered with long, motionless bodies, yet the miners kept coming, more than a dozen.<p>

"Steady hands. Make every shot count," she counseled. "Fire!" Four phaser blasts, and another two miners went down. The advancing Nausicaans stepped over the fallen ones. They were still stalking slowly down the corridor, closing the space between themselves and the three lines of blue uniformed scientists. They only looked more ugly, the closer they got. If they charged . . .

"Backwards march. Slowly. Keep your aim." Beverly wanted the miners to stay slow, feel like they had the upper hand, anything to keep them at a distance. "Don't run."

"Nowhere to run, hu-man," taunted one of the miners. His saw-toothed voice dumped ice down Beverly's spine. He had five greasy braids in his nest of hair, tied off with dangling brown cords that hung like dried meat.

She heard someone stumble behind her. "Steady!" she said, eyes forward, feet feeling their way. "Keep it steady." Then, louder, "You are threatening Federation officers." As if she could reason with them. "Stop immediately."

"Federation trash," Five-braids snarled. The others joined in.

"Federation _hokmahl._"

"Federation garbage."

"Not a bad vocabulary. That was a synonym," Beverly quipped.

"Balls of steel, Doc," a nurse said behind her.

Beverly felt her ginger rise. "Why don't you go play with someone your own size?" she taunted. "Get back, before we stun the lot of you."

The Nausicaan with the five braids spat on the ground. "Stun. Federation cowards. Others wake up soon. Then we play for real."

"Be that way," Beverly snapped. "Fire at will!"

She aimed each blast as accurately as a laser scalpel, but the outsize aliens were astonishingly fast. They sprang into motion, dodging out of the way after the first volley. To Beverly's horror, they regrouped and surged forward at a run, howling as they closed in.

"Riker to Crusher."

Beverly smacked her communicator hard. "Will! Get us the hell out of here!"

She could have screamed for joy as the world dissolved around her.

* * *

><p>Tasha spun back to meet the charge of the three miners running from the hearing room door. She heard the whomp of bodies colliding as the two new attackers engaged her security team from behind. Tasha fired three rapid blasts. One miner crumpled to his knees, the leader dodging out of the way.<p>

"Lieutenant!" Tasha half turned to see Ensign Kelly grappling with a miner for possession of her phaser. A scar ran the length of one side of the alien's face, the marks of stitches giving it the appearance of a centipede. He had one arm wrapped around Kelly's waist from behind, the other hand wrenching at her two-handed hold on her weapon. In the next instant, the phaser went flying across the room.

"Jenkins, secure that weapon!" Tasha yelled.

Three of the Nausicaans and Jenkins sprinted to cover the distance. Tasha took aim and fired at the back of one alien. He went down. The leader spun with a snarl, his red-wrapped braids flaring out, and raced back to her, bobbing and weaving like a quarterback.

"Augh!"

Tasha turned in time to see Kelly go down to the ground screaming. Tasha took aim at the scar-faced miner standing over the ensign's body, his leg reared back to kick. "Ouf!" The leader's foot connected with Tasha's back. She pitched forward and recovered, crouching to lower her center of gravity and stop her momentum. She swept out her right leg, tangling his feet. He scrambled backwards. The scar-faced Nausicaan launched a forward kick and caught her full in the chest, knocking the breath out of her. She doubled over and quickly brought her body up to head-butt him as he charged her, catching him square in the abdomen. He staggered back. Tasha saw stars.

The leader grabbed under her elbow for her weapon. "Jenkins! Vaporize my phaser!" Tasha shouted. She tossed it up in the air and watched it disappear as Jenkins skeet shot it. He was two-fisting both his and Kelly's phasers, and dodging the miner who darted behind him, snatching at the ensign's legs. It would only take one of the phasers to blast open the keypad lock, if the miners got their hands on it.

The leader and Scar-face circled Tasha, their hands loose and wide. She revolved slowly, keeping them in her line of sight, her chest on fire with pain. "Jenkins," she gasped, "throw the phasers into the hearing room." She didn't take her eyes off of the aliens.

"Sir?"

"That's an order. Yar to Ogawa."

"Ogawa here, sir." The nurse's voice was breathless with fear.

"Unlock the door and open it for one second. Relock it immediately."

"Yes, sir."

The door opened, and the three Nausicaans turned to rush it. Jenkins hurled both weapons into the opening. In a split-second, Tasha saw the petrified faces of the children inside, heard the youngest ones bawling, and registered the clank as both phasers hit the floor. The doors closed. The leader pounded his fist on it once and turned around.

"We get inside, hu-man. Our brothers wake up soon. Then we start with the little girls." Red-braids flexed his hands. "Finish with you."

Jenkins had moved to stand with Tasha, their backs to the exit of the waiting room. "Don't let them near Kelly," Tasha warned. She flickered a glance at the ensign's hunched up form on the floor behind them.

"Aye, sir."

The three Nausicaans advanced slowly, the red-braided leader pausing to pick up the pulverized chair he had thrown away before. The other two crossed to the line of metal chairs against the wall and followed suit, each taking a chair and pounding it on the ground, as if to test the weight. They advanced in a triangle, the leader taking point.

Every breath Tasha drew brought a stab of excruciating pain. "Captain, the situation is deteriorating in JAG. Request permission to use deadly force."

"Granted, Lieutenant," Picard's voice replied over her open comm.

Tasha's eyes turned steely. So far, the miners had been fighting with a Starfleet officer. They were about to find out what it was like to fight with a street thug.

At a roar from the leader, the aliens charged, brandishing their improvised bludgeons. Tasha lashed out a roundhouse kick at the height of her head, connecting with the leader's chest. The mangled chair tumbled to the ground. She stepped on her forward leg and brought her other knee up into his groin. He doubled over. She thrust two uppercuts into his belly, ignoring the pain that seared her chest. She grabbed his back and drove her knee into his midsection again, and again, and he finally went down. He struggled to rise, snarling like an animal. Tasha crushed her boot on his neck. She felt something give way, and the snarl turned into a sickening gurgle.

"Lieutenant!" Jenkins had two hands on the legs of the chair that the scar-faced Nausicaan was trying to swing into the ensign's body. The other alien was rising up from the floor. He balanced on his fingertips and the balls of his feet and sprang at Jenkins, tackling him. Scar-face raised the chair over his head, barely clearing the ceiling. Tasha threw all of her weight into a mid-body blow; the chair clattered to the floor behind the alien. She shifted her weight back again and leapt at him, driving a gouging thumb into his eye. They both screamed, Tasha as she felt her bone snap against the protruding socket. Blood geysered from the alien's scarred face, but still he came at her, kicking her chest again and sending her sprawling on her back. Tasha put her hands back to raise herself and cried out. The alien crouched over her, the cicatrix centimeters from her nose, his blood spattering her face.

Suddenly, the sound of phaser fire rent the air. The alien collapsed on Tasha; she was powerless to move. She twisted her head and saw Data framed in the doorway, in a textbook attack posture, his phaser raised in his left hand.


	21. Chapter 21

Data rushed to Tasha and pushed the stunned alien off of her, a trail of blood following the scarred, bony head.

"I heard you scream. I came as quickly as I could," Data said, his voice grave. He pulled out his tricorder and passed the probe above Tasha's body.

Two panting security officers appeared in the doorway and caught their breath, leaning against the arched jamb. "As quickly as you could was inhumanly fast, Commander," one ensign puffed out. "You just disappeared."

Data tapped his comm. badge to close the open channel, leaving behind a streak of red on his yellow uniform front. He pushed back Tasha's blood flecked hair.

An animal moan came at regular intervals from somewhere in the room. It took several seconds for Tasha to realize that the sounds were coming from her own mouth. "Kelly and Jenkins?" she managed to get out.

Data looked back at the security team, who were probing their downed comrades. One ensign spoke up. "Jenkins has a broken wrist, sir, and some internal bruising."

"Kelly needs help right away, sir," the second ensign reported.

The first ensign rose and walked to the hearing room door.

"Don't open it!" Tasha gasped, struggling to lift herself.

Data put an arm under her back. "Stay still," he cautioned her. "You are going into shock."

He looked at the devastated waiting room, smashed furniture and motionless bodies littering the floor, pools of blood forming under two of the Nausicaan's heads. Most of the bellicose miners were being beamed straight to the brig, but at least two were headed to Starbase sickbay. Or the morgue. It was not a sight that any of the children should see.

"Data to Enterprise emergency transporters."

"O'Brien here, sir."

"Beam up thirty children and three officers in three groups. Begin with Ensign Brooks and the first group of ten."

"Aye, sir. O'Brien out."

"Mmph." Tasha groaned and cradled her right hand in her left.

"Data to Sickbay."

"Crusher here."

"Three to beam directly to sickbay, Doctor."

"Acknowledged."

Data slipped his arm from under Tasha and laid her down. He got to his feet. "Energize."

He held her gaze until she disappeared in a shimmer of light. Data looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood.

* * *

><p>Tasha stopped the flow of water gushing into her full bathtub, steam rising from the surface. She took off her terry cloth robe and lowered herself in, wincing as her feet touched the scalding water. She grimaced as she settled in.<p>

The door chime sounded.

"Come in." She had a pretty good idea whom it would be, and if it were anyone else, she didn't really care. She wasn't up for getting back out or even pulling the curtain.

Data came in and took a seat on the only available perch. "You told me that you 'detest baths,'" he said without preamble.

"I put about a kilo of Epsom salt in here and the water is practically boiling. This isn't a bath – it's a stew pot."

Her joke was lost on the android. "What was the diagnosis?"

Tasha ticked off on her dripping left hand. "Bruised rectus abdominus. Three broken ribs. Abraded lung. Mild concussion. Broken thumb." She stretched out her right hand and wiggled her fingers. "But she'll live." She settled lower under the water, groaning as she did so.

"Are you in pain?" Data asked.

"Just sore." Tasha touched her abdomen with her fingertips.

"Should I get you some pain relievers?"

"I'm on pain relievers," Tasha chuckled. "I just asked the doctor not to drug me into a stupor. A little pain is good for you, let's you know that you're alive."

"I have never felt pain. I would not know."

"We both know that you're alive, anyway." Tasha splashed water over her chest. "I feel like every single centimeter of my body hurts. You should've seen the purple and black mark on me – the exact size and shape of a size-20 boot."

Data studied her naked body. "No trace of it remains." He reached over to touch a faint white scar under her collarbone. "I see only the old injuries."

"I'm on medical leave until further notice – until the doc gives me the okay." Tasha said, her eyes on his pale metallic fingers. "She said she wants me horizontal for at least two days: no work, no exercise, and no vigorous activities. That means hands off, Romeo," she finished with a half smile.

Data put his hand back in his lap. "I have noticed that your injunction against pet names does not apply to sarcastic remarks or casual insults."

Tasha looked serious. "I'm sorry. I have no right to tease you right now. You saved my life."

"It was my duty to help you."

"Well, you were very heroic in carrying out your duty."

"As were you."

"I don't feel like a hero." Tasha looked introspective. "Did we lose anyone?"

"No fatalities. Several minor injuries, some more critical."

She nodded. "Did they lose anyone?"

Data searched her face. "Two fatalities."

She let out a long sigh and lay back against the back of the tub. She closed her eyes.

"You did what was necessary, Tasha."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." She opened her eyes. "Have you ever killed anyone, Data?"

"No."

Tasha looked ahead of her at nothing. "The first time that I ever did, I was eight years old." She turned to Data. "Do you believe me?" He didn't answer. "I was protecting . . . someone I was with. Someone very dear to me. She was only three, but already a beauty. It was an older boy, threatening both of us, but he thought he could carry her away from me." Tasha's voice trailed off.

"What happened?"

"I grabbed the biggest rock my little hands could pick up from the rubble on the ground, and I brained him. There was blood everywhere, bits of shattered bone, and worse. It was gruesome." Her eyes scanned the middle distance. "We were screaming. I thought we'd never stop screaming."

Data leaned forward and took hold of her shoulder. "You would not have been able to enter Starfleet if you had not been exonerated."

She snorted. "I wasn't punished for my crime. The government had its hands full trying to incarcerate the adults. We children ran wild, like beasts. Those Nausicaans reminded me of the colony. Unfocused savagery. Wanton destruction."

Data saw the tears welling in her eyes. "You were heroic on the starbase, my friend. You protected 30 defenseless children with no regard for your own safety. That seems to me to be selfless, not savage."

She blinked away the unshed tears. "It's my job." She reached up and laid a hand on his face. "Thank you for coming when you did. You saved our lives."

"You saved your own lives, when you locked away your phasers."

"It seemed to be the only solution at the time. If one of those big fellas had gotten a hold of a phaser, there would've been nothing left for you to save – we would've been vapor."

Data looked unwaveringly into Tasha's eyes. "I would not have let any harm come to you."

She dropped her hand with a splash. "Don't kid yourself. When your number comes up, there's nothing anyone can do to stop it, not even you."

"If it is in my power, I will protect you."

"Data," Tasha smiled, "You can't play the knight in shining armor to a security chief. It just doesn't work."

"Tasha." He knelt on the floor by the tub and put his arms on the rim, leaning close. "Your penchant for dispelling the seriousness of a moment is inappropriate at this time."

She dropped the smile. He went on. "I am asking you to heed my words. I could have lost you today. I find the thought of losing you to be most disturbing. If it is in my power, I will not allow any harm to come to you."

Tasha averted her eyes. She flicked her left hand in the water, watching rippling circles appear and disappear. Her heart was full to bursting, but she couldn't acknowledge it aloud. At last, she said, "We put ourselves at risk every day – isn't that what the captain says? It's foolish to think – "

Data turned his nose to the side and kissed her. A miniature wave swelled as Tasha shifted to put both arms around his neck. A larger wave splashed water on the floor as he put his arms beneath her back and knees and lifted her up as easily as if she weighed nothing.

"The doctor's orders . . ." Tasha said weakly, her forehead against his.

"She forbade all vigorous activity?" He was carrying her into the bedroom.

"Mm-hmm."

"Then I will be very, very gentle."

As if to prove the truth of his words, he barely disturbed the sheets as he lowered her onto the bed. He bent down and kissed her, parting her lips, nudging his tongue against hers, sweeping his fingers over her wet skin. She relaxed and let him caress her. His lips broke away from hers, moving over her cheek. She felt his mouth on her ear. Tasha wanted him badly, but it felt different from the chemical urgency that had driven her in the past. It was a feeling that might not dissipate so easily, that wanted to put down roots in her heart and grow. She pressed her lips to his neck.

"All senior officers: report to the Observation Lounge." The comm. startled them both.

"Damn," Tasha swore. They broke apart.

Data looked momentarily displeased, but recovered quickly. "I must go."

"You might want to change your uniform, first."

He looked down at his soaking wet sleeves and shirtfront. "Yes." He looked at Tasha, pink and gold against the white sheets. "May I visit you later?"

"Yes, please."

He nodded, still looking perturbed. "It is quite unsettling to end my sexuality program prematurely once it has begun," he observed.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Tasha replied.

He nodded to her and left. She scooted under the covers and was soon asleep.

* * *

><p>Tasha was awakened, disoriented and dehydrated, by the door chime. Her sheets were cold and damp. She felt more pain than she had before she'd slept. There was another dose of an anti-inflammatory somewhere in her room, but she couldn't think where.<p>

"Come in." It came out as a croak.

"Tasha?" The captain's distinctive pronunciation made it rhyme with Dasher.

"In here, sir." She pulled the covers up to her chin.

Jean-Luc entered her bedroom. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

"Rotten." Tasha giggled. "Sir, I'm not decent. Could I trouble you to hand me the robe hanging in my bathroom?"

"Of course." The captain looked at the full bathtub, a crusty white ring at the water line. "Were you boiling pasta?"

"Heh. I forgot to drain it."

He handed her the robe and politely turned his back as she put it on. After a decent interval, he sat down on her bed. Tasha looked like a sick child that had been kept home from school: her blond hair stood up in peaks, and there was a slight flush on her cheeks. The captain had to resist an urge to put a hand to her forehead to check for fever. "Looks like you couldn't wait to get into bed."

"You can say that again."

"I came by to commend you on your work today. Well done, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

There was an awkward silence. Picard wished himself in a more appropriate place. It was odd to conduct official business in a darkened room with his scantily clad security officer, who was young enough to be his daughter, lying in bed. Well, it couldn't be helped.

"You have proven yourself time and again, Tasha. I am very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir."

The door chime tweeted. "Come in!" Tasha called with relief.

Data appeared at her bedroom door.

"Data, there's a dose of painkillers somewhere in the living room. Will you find it and bring it to me? With a glass of water?"

"Of course." The door closed behind him.

Picard looked thoughtfully at Tasha. The two officers hadn't even said hello to each other. There was a casual familiarity between them that he had never noticed before. In another moment, he'd put it out of his mind.

"A speedy recovery, Lieutenant. I'm sure you'll be back on the bridge in no time."

"Yes, sir. Thanks for stopping by."

Picard stood to leave and almost collided with Data. "Commander," he said by way of goodbye.

"Captain." Data stepped around him and handed two small glasses to Tasha, one clear, one dark.

The captain nodded at them and left.

Tasha gulped down both draughts. "Data, will you get me my pajamas?"

He went back into her living area and pressed the lock on a drawer, which slid open. He pulled out a white standard-issue unisex pants set and keyed the drawer shut.

Tasha was holding out the glasses to him when he re-entered. He laid the pajamas on the bed and took the empty glasses, walking back into the living room and placing them in the de-materialization slot.

"Data?"

He walked back into the bedroom. "Yes?"

Tasha was standing, putting on the pajamas. "Will you take the sheets off of my bed and put them in the cleaning unit? They're all wet."

"Of course." He set about to do as she'd asked.

"And put new ones on?"

Only the faintest hint of suspicion crossed his face. "Tasha, would you like for me to call a nurse to come and help you?"

"Nooooo," she whined dramatically. She giggled despite herself. "I want you to do it."

"Understood."

She rested against the wall, watching the second officer bustle about her room. She felt something different for him developing inside of her, although she couldn't put her finger on it. It was something new, she was sure.

"I can see your halo," she said.

Data stopped and checked himself over rapidly. He looked at her in bafflement.

"Never mind."

He shrugged and finished making her bed, with a tap of his finger against the taut sheet. "Was there anything else that you needed?"

"Yes. A glass of warm milk."

"Tasha." Data folded his arms. "You appear to be having a joke on me."

"Oh, Data." She moved to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I . . ."

She immediately broke off. No. That couldn't be what she was about to say. No way.

He was looking at her without expression. "You?"

"Nothing. Never mind. I'm really tired. Would you mind just staying here until I fall asleep again?"

"May I stay with you all night?" Data asked.

"Don't you have night watch?"

"I have traded my shift with Lt. Worf."

Tasha bit her lip. "You know the latest rule."

"Yes." He paused a moment, and then Tasha's high, emphatic voice came from his mouth. "No sleepovers."

"I hate it when you do that."

"I am sorry," Data replied in his own voice. "It is part of who I am."

"Hmph. Well, you heard me, no sleepovers."

"I will not sleep."

"I know, so what's the point?"

"I would like to watch over you."

Something snapped inside of Tasha. If he had asked her for the moon at that moment, she would have headed to the nearest shuttlebay to go get it. Her omnipresent voice of caution and mistrust was being drowned out by the sound of violins.

Still, she resisted. "I don't know why you want to. I make the worst bedfellow – I kick, I snore, and sometimes, I have night terrors."

"You cannot injure me or disturb me," Data replied patiently. "It is of no importance to me how you behave while you are asleep. I simply ask to be here, in case you should need me."

Tasha appeared to consider his logical words. "Oh . . . okay. But this is an exception. The rule still stands."

"Undoubtedly." Data made a special note in his memory record – the first time that he had won an argument with the stubborn security chief.


	22. Chapter 22

The room was dark, but Data had had hours to adjust his eyes to the obscurity. It was 0110 by his internal chronometer, and he noted when one second and 10 milliseconds went by – a fleeting palindrome. Though he usually had somewhat more with which to occupy his time at this hour, he was not bored. Observing Tasha while she slept was sufficiently diverting.

They were dressed alike; in fact, he wore one of her pajama sets. The fit was adequate – on Tasha, it was oversized. She laid on her side, flat on the mattress, her head below the bolster, rather than on it. Data was propped up to a half reclined position by two pillows that he had retrieved from her closet, where she had kept them stowed since the day that they had launched. Tasha had professed not to need or even like pillows, as was the case with anything that hinted at luxury: baths, a soft bed, rich food, all garnered her avowed distaste. She held strong opinions on the most trivial of matters. It was endlessly fascinating to uncover her thoughts on things. In these particular matters, Tasha had much in common with Lt. Worf. They both espoused the importance of living a warrior's life.

Data perceived the reason behind Tasha's injunction against spending the night with her. Lying next to him, her legs tucked up to her chest, her hand loosely curled near her open mouth, her face clean of cosmetics, she looked as docile as a baby. Without mascara, her lashes were pale, nearly invisible. The deeply etched nasio-labial folds and downturn of her mouth that made her look so formidable during the day were absent in repose. She looked fragile, something that could not be said about her when she was awake. It was antithetical to her warrior philosophy. To expose herself to him like this, when she was in her most vulnerable state, must have been a difficult concession for Tasha to make. Data made a note of it in his memory file.

She stirred. He could see the rapid movements of her eyes below the closed lids. She was dreaming. Data wondered what it felt like to sleep, to dream – he would have to ask her about it in the morning. Her fist clenched tight all of a sudden, and her lips started to move. At first, an unintelligible murmur issued forth. Then, Data began to decipher words. A crease appeared between her eyebrows.

"No . . . stop . . . no . . . go away . . ."

She was whimpering in her sleep. Data consulted his files and discerned that she was having a nightmare. He cross-referenced medical and psychological texts on the topic of dreams and dreaming, but found little in the way of applicable advice. In the end, he called upon his personal experience with Tasha to determine an action. Shifting further down the bed, he eased one arm underneath her and gathered her close to him, moving his legs under her knees and stroking her back with his free hand. Her face relaxed, and her hand uncurled. With a sigh, she passed into deeper sleep.

"Hm," Data said, and then checked to see if the sound had awoken her. Tasha lay still, her breath even and warm, her body temperature steady. He wondered if he should rock her, as one manual had suggested, but decided against it.

* * *

><p>Tasha awoke with her head on Data's chest and one leg over him. He looked down at her with an expression of mild curiosity.<p>

She smiled up at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a rock." She stretched and rubbed her eyes. "Computer: lights."

"Inquiry: What does it feel like to sleep? To dream? To have nightmares?"

Tasha cackled. "Data, no philosophical discussions until I'm upright. Or at least have had some coffee."

"My apologies."

"Unnecessary. You're just being you." She reached over him to touch the PADD. "0716. I haven't been up after day watch since . . . well, since never."

"Never?"

"I may be exaggerating. But I am definitely a morning person." She got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. "It feels strange to sleep in."

"Inquiry: Morning person?"

"It means that I feel energized early in the day. Some people are night owls. I'm an early bird."

"You obfuscate the meaning of a colloquialism when you define it with another colloquialism, Tasha."

The sound of a sonic toothbrush came from the bathroom. Data did not think that the timing of it was unintentional.

She soon emerged, her hairline wet. "Aren't you going to get out of bed?"

Data abruptly got to his feet. Tasha laughed and crossed into the living room. She came back through the bedroom doors with a cup of coffee in hand. "You look cute in my pajamas."

"Thank you."

"You have cute feet." She stepped on one with her own bare foot for emphasis. "But white isn't really your color; I mean, it doesn't suit you."

"I see."

Tasha put her coffee cup on the nightstand. "On second thought, maybe you should get back into bed. You look really cute in those jammies."

"Tasha, I am due on the bridge, in my uniform, in 33 minutes and 10 seconds."

"Whoa!" She stopped herself mid-grab. "Are you turning me down? Mark the stardate!"

"Tasha."

"This is a first. I can't believe you're saying no."

"There is insufficient time."

"Haven't you ever heard of a quickie?"

Data looked speculatively at Tasha. "You are supposed to be convalescent."

"We have the best doctor in Starfleet. I feel much better."

"I applaud your recuperative powers and your healthy libido, but I contend that there is insufficient time."

"Awwww." Tasha kicked an imaginary stone.

"A proposal: I would consider acceding to your wishes if you would consider allowing me to spend another night with you."

"No way. I told you that this was an exception. First and last time. If you give up working night watch and start spending every night with me, then we might as well put out a ship-wide bulletin. Everyone would know."

"Very well." Data sidestepped her and picked up his clothes from their precisely folded pile on the floor. A thought occurred to him. He laid his clothes on the end of the bed and walked slowly back to face Tasha, who looked at him with curiosity. He looked her in the eyes, and undid his top shirt closure.

"What's the big idea?" she asked.

He held her gaze. "I must change into my uniform." Second closure. Third.

"Uhhh . . . I know that."

Fourth. With exaggerated casualness, he took off his pajama top and threw it over one shoulder.

"This is not going to work," Tasha said, a quiver in her voice. Data was a perfect, albeit slender, male specimen, with the aesthetically balanced features of a sculpture. His hands went to his waistband.

"Wait!" Tasha put up one hand like an old time traffic cop. "One night only, and I get to pick the night."

"One night at a mutually agreed upon date," Data countered.

"Deal." She grabbed his shoulders.

"We have less than 26 minutes."

"Oh, stop being such a stopwatch and kiss me."

Some twenty minutes later, Data was lying down, looking up at Tasha, upright and astride him. "If you are sincere in your desire to keep our liaison a secret, may I suggest that you attenuate the volume of your voice?"

"I would punch you, but I already broke my hand once. I can't control my voice when I'm peaking, mister. If you don't like it, put one of those pillows to good use."

"That I will not do.' He put up one finger. "If you would allow me to rise?"

"I guess." Tasha disengaged herself and sat beside him. "I'm jealous. I'm gonna be bored all day, and you're gonna be having fun on the bridge."

"I will be working." Data was rapidly dressing himself.

"Work _is _fun." Tasha laughed. "What made you think of that impromptu striptease? It was very unlike you, Data."

He paused in pulling on a boot. "I suddenly remembered the first time that you seduced me. Your actions had as great an impact as did your words. I thought that I might emulate your example."

"It was a very convincing argument. But don't expect it to work a year from now – I'm only in your thrall because we're in the bunny rabbit phase."

"What does an Earth Leporid signify in this context?"

"It has to do with the animal's short and frequent gestational cycle and the analogous actions of lovers in a new relationship. It's an expression coined by an old friend of mine from my last assignment. He was something of a womanizer."

"An old friend? What kind of friend?"

"Let it go, Data. It's in the past."

He gave a short grunt and pulled on his other boot. "You believe that our relationship will still be in effect a year from now?"

"It's in the realm of possibilities."

"A fortunate thought." He stood. "I find you to be a font of thought-provoking material, Tasha."

"Thanks."

"Please follow the doctor's orders and rest."

"I will." She put up her face to him. He kissed her goodbye and hurried out.

* * *

><p>"Now I'm going to check the range of motion of your right hand. Squeeze this as tightly as you can without hurting yourself." Beverly handed Tasha a flexible gray ball.<p>

Tasha squeezed it hard. "It doesn't hurt, Doctor. I'm telling you; I'm fine. You're going to have to commit me if I have to spend one more day in my quarters." Tasha was bouncing a little on the sickbay bed.

"It's my job to determine if you're fine or not. Stretch your fingers out wide." Beverly was smiling, but she tried to sound serious. She took the ball from Tasha and tapped it against her tricorder to transfer the results. "Take a deep breath."

Tasha obeyed. "I think you're just torturing me. It's been four days. I feel great!"

Beverly shook her head. "If you would just be quiet; I'm trying to listen to your lungs."

They exchanged a look and tried not to laugh. Something about the return of Tasha's usual buzzing energy was affecting them both. Beverly was also inwardly relieved; Tasha's injuries had been among the worst from the Starbase 175 incident.

"Alright, Lieutenant. My prognosis is . . . Nurse Asprey, have you begun diagnostic checks on the peripheral tools?" Beverly turned away with a huge smile.

"Aw, c'mon, Doc!"

"Okay. You may return to work, Lieutenant."

"Yippee! Thanks, Mom!" They both gave in to their giggles. Tasha hopped off of the bed.

"I'll tell Cdr. Data to update the duty roster," Beverly said.

"And I'll send a message to my subordinates to prepare for a security muster the day after tomorrow."

Beverly tsked. "Tasha . . ."

"You're right, Doctor. They might've gone soft in four days. Tomorrow it is!" Tasha jaunted to the door.

"And just where do you think you're going now?"

"To the gym – where else?" Tasha wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave and left.

Beverly laughed again and turned to the nurse. "You just can't keep a good woman down."

* * *

><p>The officers in the gym gave a little cheer when Tasha entered the room. She received their slaps on the back and words of welcome with an embarrassed smile. She hadn't expected anyone to notice her absence.<p>

She stepped onto a treadmill and started walking at the lowest setting. The soreness was completely gone, but she could feel in her muscles that she hadn't exercised in days. She raised the setting to level three.

"Back in the saddle, eh?" Will stepped onto the empty treadmill beside her.

'Commander! Missed you at dinner last night."

"Too much work to do. Someone decided to take a little vacation. Somebody else had to pick up the slack." He was walking at setting three, matching her pace.

"Yeah. My travel agent was two meters tall and had a really bad attitude."

"Next time you go on vacation, try a more exotic locale."

"I'll do my best." She upped her setting to five and started to jog.

Riker gave her a sidelong glance and changed his setting to five. He was able to take it at a fast walk. "I should bring you up to date on our mission. We've been getting messages about an outbreak of Anchilles fever on Styris IV. It's reaching pandemic proportions."

"Is it curable?"

"Federation scientists haven't found a cure. But they've turned up a people who claim to have one, in the Ligonian system."

"Huh."

"They're not allies, and they've been xenophobic in the past. But we may have found a contact who's willing to negotiate with us."

"Interesting. Has anyone begun the briefing study yet?"

Will smiled. "What do you think?"

"Right. I'll ask Cdr. Data to catch me up on the profile." Tasha raised the setting on her treadmill. "Sorry, Commander. I'm going to be doing anaerobic intervals. I won't be able to talk anymore."

He gave her an appraising look. "Exactly when did you get released from medical leave?"

"I don't know – fifteen, twenty minutes ago?"

"And you're celebrating with wind sprints?"

"Don't worry, sir. You don't have to keep up with me. I'll understand. You're older than I am." Tasha gave him a sweet smile.

"Can't keep up? You wanna bet?'

"Depends on the bet."

"How about a meal cooked from scratch?"

Tasha laughed. "Me? Cook? You mean if you lose?"

"I mean if you win. I'll cook you a real food meal."

"Deal. And if you win, you know, theoretically?"

Riker's smile was devilish. "You wear a skant for a week."

"No fair! I want to change my bet! I'd do anything to see you parade those hairy legs around the ship."

"Too late – you already agreed."

"You tricked me." Tasha jumped and straddled the moving belt, her feet on the sides of the treadmill. "Doesn't matter. Better start thinking about where you're going to find real cheese."

"Better start shaving your legs." Will jumped and positioned his feet on either side of the belt.

"My legs aren't hairy."

"How do you know mine are?'

"Next time we make a bet, I'm gonna find out. Eat my dust, sir."

They both raised their settings to 16.

* * *

><p>Tasha moved down the line of security officers in holodeck four, correcting stances and making notes on her PADD. It was the second security muster of the four that she'd scheduled for the day, and far from feeling fatigued, she felt exhilarated. They had just finished the first round of sparring with computer-generated partners, and she was offering individual feedback. She made sure to proffer compliments before giving constructive criticism. It took a long time, and some of her officers were getting antsy as they waited at attention.<p>

Three young female ensigns, recent Academy graduates, were whispering at the end of the line. They were engaged in the execution of a skill that all cadets mastered by graduation: talking behind clenched teeth without moving their heads and barely moving their lips. Tasha might not have noticed if they hadn't raised their voices just a little too loudly. She passed between two officers and approached the three young women from behind.

"Definitely the captain. Those eyes. And have you seen his arms? So powerful."

"Uh-uh. The first officer. Tall, dark, and handsome. No contest."

"And have you checked out his rear deflector? Nice."

"You two are sucking exhaust. The captain, hands down. I'd launch his torpedoes any day."

"Full spread."

"Red alert."

"Bursa! Smith! Collins!" Tasha yelled their names behind them and they snapped to perfect attention. "I'm disappointed, Ensigns. If you were using your peripheral vision and paying attention, you would have noticed me sneaking up behind you. Humans are animals – you should have felt me standing only 60 centimeters away."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

Tasha crossed in front of them and faced them. "Would you like to share your conversation with your fellow officers?"

"No, sir." The three young ensigns stared straight in front of themselves.

Tasha lowered her voice. "Then, save the speculation for the privacy of your quarters." The security chief typed on her PADD. "All three of you will attend an etiquette refresher course at 1600 hours. I suggest that you take notes. You will each prepare a 500 word summary of what you learned and how you will apply the information onboard the Enterprise, due to me by 0900 tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!"

"Now, Bursa, show me Hidari Kamae."

Tasha had had a brief moment of anxiety when she'd first heard the young women talking. She'd been stricken by the thought that her officers might be whispering about _her_. Data had stayed over every night since she'd been on medical leave, and she was hoping against hope that no one had noticed on a ship that produced as much gossip as it did solid waste. But it had been too great a temptation for her, to fall into a routine. It had been so comforting, his face the last thing she saw before she went to sleep, and the first thing she saw in the morning. Talking to him into the wee hours, uncovering his curiosity about the universe and humanity and life, his sense of wonder, his boundless trust. She could get used to the utter domesticity of it.

But what if she did get used to it? What next? Since when had she started depending on someone else for a sense of security or comfort? It was like taking a step back. After all, she was a grown woman. A Starfleet officer. Enough was enough. She wasn't going to give in again. They weren't dating, they weren't in love, and she had promised herself not to lose her head. She would tell him so that night.

* * *

><p>"And look at this – the wedding ceremony between two primary partners lasts for seven days, and the guests can number in the thousands! The bride and groom don't greet each other until the final day, after personally greeting every single guest." Tasha sat across from Data in Ten-Forward, engrossed in the screen of a PADD. "Each greeting is stylized according to the rank, gender, age, and family lineage of the two persons – can you believe this?"<p>

"It does stagger the imagination. The Ligonians put great store in extended ritual. They seem to value honor above all other qualities, with patience as a close second," Data replied.

"Y'know, I don't think I could sit still for a weeklong wedding."

"I have no basis on which to make a comparison – I have never attended a wedding.""

"That's funny – neither have I. I guess I don't really know any married couples."

"Perhaps we should endeavor to attend a wedding together. It might be an illuminating experience."

Tasha thought that it was a good time to change the subject. "Listen – there's something I want to talk to you about. I don't think you should stay overnight in my quarters anymore."

"If I may remind you: two nights ago, you said that the matter was open to discussion."

"I know. I've changed my mind."

"So it would appear." Data folded his hands on the table.

"I think it's too obvious. We run too great a risk of being found out."

"I disagree. We are allotted one day off for every four days of work. I do not exclusively work the third shift on the bridge. My absence from the bridge overnight will raise no suspicion if we limit it to one night out of every seven."

"It doesn't matter. I want to go back to my earlier rule. No sleepovers, period."

"Why does it not matter when I have presented you with a valid point? You cannot deny – "

"It doesn't matter because friends don't spend the night together. Our whole understanding is predicated on the fact that we're friends."

"I disagree. We have spent the night together, yet we are still friends."

"It doesn't feel like it." Tasha kept her voice quiet. "It's starting to feel less casual to me."

"What could be the harm in that?"

"Don't. Data, please don't open that door. I'm putting my foot down."

He bent down to look under the table. Tasha put her head in her hands. "It's an expression, Data."

He straightened up. "I put forward that you have engaged me in this debate for the intrinsic value that you put on contention. You cannot deny that you enjoy the time that we spend together, as do I. I am puzzled as to why, but you have ignored my talking points without due consideration."

Tasha set her jaw. "Are you accusing me of picking a fight for no reason?"

Data was unperturbed. "I believe that is what I said. You place great weight on winning an argument at any cost. Perhaps it is more important to you to be right than it is to be fair."

Tasha leaned forward and whispered, "How dare you accuse me of that when I've been more than fair. We spent four – " She broke off and sat back. Worf approached the table and sat down beside her.

"Lt. Yar."

"Lt. Worf."

"Commander."

"Good evening, Lt. Worf." Data looked steadily at Tasha. She was frowning, but otherwise making an effort to control her expression.

"What are you reading?" Worf asked her.

"Data downloaded an overview from the library computer of the cultural practices on Ligon II."

"Yes. It is unfortunate that I must be away during this mission. The Ligonian society bears a resemblance to Klingon mores. I find it interesting. This trip to see my parents has been planned for some time, unfortunately."

"Yup." Tasha was only half listening. Data said nothing.

Will and Geordi joined them at the table, nodding greetings and taking their customary seats, Geordi at Data's side. The android was quick to consult his friend. "Geordi, have you ever known a person who initiated conflict for its intrinsic quality, rather than to engage in true debate?"

"Sure, Data – my sister. Ariana loves a good fight. She used to pick fights with me whenever she was bored."

"How did you react under those circumstances?"

"Well, when we were little kids, I always took the bait. As we got older, and I figured out that she was just egging me on, sometimes it was easier to just agree with her. It completely threw her off." Geordi was missing the daggers that Tasha was throwing with her eyes.

"What if you disagreed on a fundamental point?"

"Y'know, it didn't really matter – she was just being pig-headed for the sake - "

There was a loud clatter as Tasha threw the PADD on the table and scraped back her chair. "Excuse me. I suddenly have no appetite." She stalked down to the exit.

"Somebody had a bad day," Geordi commented.

"Excuse me." Data got up and followed Tasha.

He caught up to her in the corridor, where she spun and put up one finger. "You had no right to ask Geordi to take your side. It's totally unfair."

Data was unmoved. "Geordi presented an unbiased opinion. He could not have - "

"And it's none of his business, or anybody else's. This is between us. You're completely disregarding my wishes, which is exactly what you said you wouldn't do."

"You are disregarding my wishes."

"Because I can't do it anymore!" The corridor was empty, but Tasha looked around to see if anyone had heard her yelling. She lowered her voice. "You're asking me for more than I can give right now. We shouldn't have crossed that line. I'm just sticking to my original boundary. That's my final word. No more discussion."

"Further discussion would appear to be futile, as you are disinterested in hearing my opinion."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm arguing just for the sake of arguing? You have no basis - " She stopped as a junior officer came around the curve of the hall and passed them. "For that accusation," she finished.

Data tried to mollify her. "To say that you do not want me to stay with you because you cannot is untrue, Tasha. You have proven that the contrary is true. Perhaps we could discuss the real reason for your distress, whatever it may be. I have noticed that you find relief in talking about what distresses you."

Tasha sighed, shaking her head. "No. I'm sick of arguing with you. I'm going to my quarters." She turned and began to walk away.

"May I visit you later?" Data's voice was as neutral as always.

Tasha's jaw dropped. She turned around to face him again. "Are you kidding me?" She took a few slow steps back to him. "Data, this is a fight. You and I" Tasha drew a line in the air back and forth between them, "are fighting. I suggest that you stay out of my way." She spun on her heel and walked away.

Data watched her go. "A fight." He thought about it for a moment. "A spat. A lover's quarrel. Hm." His expression brightened. "Intriguing."

He walked back through the doors of Ten-Forward.


	23. Chapter 23

Four - Scar Tissue

"Ouf!" Tasha flew headfirst over the shoulder of her computer-generated Aikido partner. She folded herself up and slapped her palms on the mat as she hit the floor, rolling through and immediately getting to her feet.

"Freeze program."

The longer you worked with it, the better the computer got at anticipating your moves. She'd worked long enough. If Dr. Crusher caught her in sickbay with a pulled muscle, Tasha would get an earful. She bowed to her partner. "End program." The robed and hooded opponent vanished.

"Computer, what's the time?"

"The time is 2015 hours." Almost two hours before she would have to hit the rack. She was finished with her administrative work, and thanks to her medical leave, was caught up on every trade journal that she subscribed to. She would normally be in her quarters at this hour, and for the past two weeks, she wouldn't normally have been alone.

"Computer, where is Lt. Cdr. Data?"

"Lt. Cdr. Data is in the quarters of Lt. La Forge."

Of course. Geordi was probably listening to one of Data's bad jokes right at that minute, or watching him practice human mannerisms, or patiently explaining an idiomatic phrase. Geordi was so much more tolerant than she was. Data had learned not to use her as a practice audience after only two tries. The second try spoke to his sense of optimism. Tasha sighed through her nose and headed out of the holodeck.

* * *

><p>"A neutron walks into a bar. . ."<p>

"No. No more. You're killing me."

"'Killing' is a colloquial expression for success at a comedy routine. Am I to understand that I am doing well?" Data was following Geordi in a tight circle around Geordi's living room.

"No, Data. I mean you are literally killing me." Geordi was pacing like a caged animal. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"It was you who suggested that I work on the human equation. You said, 'Practice makes perfect.'"

"Don't remind me."

"I am merely following your advice. A neutron walks into a bar. He asks the bartender for a martini. The bartender makes the martini and serves it to the neutron. The neutron asks, 'How much for the martini?' The bartender replies, 'For you, no charge.'" Data looked expectantly at Geordi.

"That was awful."

"It was?"

"Yes. The rhythm was off. The joke was too long and too repetitive, and I saw the punch line coming from a mile away."

"I see." They had stopped pacing. Geordi indicated the couch with a wave of his hand. They both sat down. Data turned to his friend. "An astrophysicist, an engineer, and a xenobiologist are on a boat in the middle of a river–"

"Data, please. I'm begging you. Let's talk about something else besides humor."

"Very well." Data looked convincingly disappointed. "What would you like to discuss?"

"Well, I haven't told you my latest. You've been hard to track down lately."

"Your latest what?"

"I was so sure that we clicked, that she really liked me."

"Ah – Lt. Ito."

"Yeah. I asked her if she wanted to hang out in the cetacean lab with me. We were having fun, I thought I was getting a good vibe, and I tried to make a move. She gave me the brush-off. Told me she saw me more as a kid brother." Geordi looked glum.

"That was not how you wished her to see you."

"No. And then yesterday, I saw her leave Ten-Forward with Ensign Monroe. They looked very chummy."

"That must have been disappointing."

Geordi threw his hands up in the air. "I just don't get it. What am I doing wrong?"

"I am not equipped to answer that question, my friend," replied Data.

"There are so many beautiful women on this ship. Yet in two months, I haven't gone on one second date." Geordi leaned back on the couch.

"Perhaps you should consult Counselor Troi about your concerns," Data offered.

"Not on your life." Geordi put his feet up on his low table. "I'll tell you who I'm really holding a torch for, if you can keep it under your hat."

"Inquiry–"

"Let me rephrase that. I'll tell you who I'm harboring some hopeless feelings for, if you can keep it a secret." Geordi paused. "Wow. It sounds much more pathetic that way."

"Who?"

"Seriously, Data, you can't tell anyone."

"Geordi, I give you my word."

Geordi shook his head. "It's Tasha." He checked Data for a reaction, but the android was unmoved. "But there's nothin' doin'. And I don't think it's personal – I know she likes me well enough. But if you ask anyone who knew her before, they'd say that she's un-dateable. Worf says that she had a reputation at the Academy for being too serious about her work to get involved with anyone. I put out some feelers her way, and I tell you, not much has changed since then. She's in love with her job." He sighed. "It's too bad. She's really something, you know? I mean, she can be a little hotheaded at times, but that just adds to her appeal, don't you think? Data?" Geordi snapped his fingers in front of his friend's motionless face. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes." Data otherwise showed no signs of reaction, looking straight ahead.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

Data looked at Geordi. "Curious."

"That's it?" Geordi put a hand to the back of his own head.

"Perhaps we could change the subject again." Data's face was inscrutable.

"Oooh-kay. What do _you _want to talk about?"

For the first time since he'd known him, his android friend was at a loss for words. "I do not know," Data said softly.

* * *

><p>Tasha was wearing out a groove in her living room carpet. She had tried to start a novel, but had given up after reading the same paragraph three times over without comprehending it.<p>

"Computer: play some music. Electric guitars and drums."

A few bars in, the lyrics began to annoy her. "With the birds I'll share this lonely view…"

"Computer, stop music." She paced back and forth some more. "How about a game?"

"Specify type of game."

"I don't know. Surprise me."

"Selection complete. Word Association game. Timed play. Player will guess theme after 10 rounds. Begin?"

"Um, no. Sounds too much like therapy. Never mind."

It was no use. She couldn't focus her mind on anything for longer than half a minute. She was completely out of ideas. What did she used to do at night, anyway?

"Computer: location of Counselor Troi."

"Counselor Troi is in the quarters of Cdr. Riker."

Well, she wasn't going to bust in on that scene. "Where is Lt. Worf?"

"Lt. Worf is in his quarters."

"Lt. Yar to Lt. Worf."

The Klingon's basso profundo came over the comm. "Worf here."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I am packing for my rendezvous with the Zhukov."

"What would you say to a late night Mok'bara session?"

A pause, then, "That would be acceptable."

"Meet you in the workout room in five." Tasha opened a drawer and pulled out her Mok'bara gi.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Data, I'm kicking you out. I need some down time before I go to bed." Geordi yawned and stretched. He was surprised to see reluctance from Data, who had not moved from his seat. "Hey, is something wrong? There's usually nothing left but an EM afterimage 10 seconds after someone says goodbye to you."<p>

Seconds passed before Data responded, "I am disinclined to be alone at this moment."

Geordi put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Data, I know you're a social being, but that's a pretty odd statement coming from you. What's on your mind?"

"I . . ." Data opened his mouth as if to say more, and then closed it again. "I withdraw the statement. Good night." He rose and left the room.

Geordi scratched his head. "Now, that was more typical."

Data entered his own quarters and sat down at his workstation. He reached out to touch the interface, but withdrew his hand again. He could not stop his thoughts from turning to the subject that had occupied him to the point of distraction for the past 3.6 hours, and had been prominent in his mind for several days. Tasha presented a challenge to his interpersonal relating programs that he had heretofore never faced. Even with constant updates to his probability calculations, to try to compensate as he encountered new behaviors from her, her actions and reactions had remained completely unpredictable. Perhaps that was one reason for his fondness for her – she was as challenging and engrossing a puzzle as the most temperamental shipboard system.

There was more to his fondness than that, however. What had begun as an interest in her based on their similarities had grown into a relationship that absorbed his attention. Tasha suffered from an inability to process her thoughts and emotions in a conventional manner, in his amateur assessment. As convoluted as it made their interactions, it put the two of them on a more equal footing than any of the other intimate relationships that he had attempted in the past. Those had been extremely short-lived. Humans tended to project emotion onto him, as if he were a blank canvas, and once a human discovered that any perceived emotional connection between them was an illusion of her own making, the relationship would end. On average, the time elapsed before disillusionment had been 2.5 days. Tasha was the first partner he had encountered to whom his lack of emotion seemed to be an asset.

And yet, she had declared that they were fighting, over an inconsequential detail of their understanding. He did not believe that their relationship experiment was at an end, and he had evidence to support a conjecture that after she had had sufficient time to process her thoughts and emotions, she would approach him with words of remorse. At least, that was a pattern that she had established in the past. There was a 33.3% chance that her behavior would deviate from that pattern.

It was fascinating to experience the ups and downs of her behavior. Her physical responses were as captivating as her verbal ones were bewildering. Tasha reacted to his proximity with elevated body temperature and heart rate and quickened respiration. Her pupils would contract and expand as she looked at him. She seemed to show genuine affection for him. Perhaps this was the central reason for his fondness: Tasha seemed to care for him. It was astonishing, especially in view of the fact that she was considered desirable but unattainable by their crewmates.

Geordi's revelation had been disconcerting, but not for the obvious reason. Tasha's prohibition against speaking about their relationship had blocked the one outlet that Data usually relied upon for navigating human mores. Of all of the people whom he could call upon for advice, Geordi would have been his first choice, had Data been successful in lobbying for permission to speak to one person. As it was, there was no need to broach the subject. To tell his best friend that Data had succeeded where Geordi had not would have hurt Geordi's feelings. Data had no interest in emotionally injuring his friend.

It would have been easier to deal with this nascent relationship with the help of a friend's advice. Data did not have that option, but there was some satisfaction in having the knowledge of her all to himself. He was not due on the bridge for another 92 minutes and 33 seconds, so he gave himself up to his thoughts, turning them over and over on the fierce, passionate, enigmatic woman who had captured his fancy.

* * *

><p>Tasha patted a towel against her face and the open v-neck of her quilted white Mok'bara gi.<p>

Worf threw his towel onto a bench. "Your lack of concentration was uncharacteristic, Lt. Yar."

"Sorry about that. I was hoping that a good session would help me focus my mind, but I couldn't get into a meditative state."

"It was right for you to go through the motions, then. Where the body leads, the mind follows."

Tasha threw her towel on top of Worf's. "I'm not sure that it's always right to do what your body tells you to."

"You have missed the meaning behind the aphorism," Worf said with severity. "Only by disciplining the body can a warrior discipline the mind."

"Now, that I can get behind." Tasha sat down on the bench. "That's the test of life, isn't it? Harmonizing your mind, body, and heart until there's no more disjunction. Until they flow as effortlessly as ki flows through everything."

"Yes." Worf's eyes burned. "The life force. As you say, it is the true test – to become impeccable. To act, think, and feel with honor." Worf clasped her arm. "We aspire to the same goals."

"Would I have made a good Klingon?" Tasha asked.

"Without a doubt. But fate made you a human." Worf released her arm. She rubbed it unconsciously.

"Do you really believe in fate, Worf?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. I don't. I don't even believe in luck, I don't think. I believe in hard work."

"There is no substitute for hard work," Worf agreed, "But destiny plays a role in our lives as well."

"Then, you think you were destined to join Starfleet, and serve on the Enterprise?"

"Perhaps."

"That means your parents were destined to die at Khitomer."

Worf fixed his intense gaze on Tasha for a few seconds, and then sat down on the bench beside her. "Yes."

"Really? Don't you think that's sort of bleak? Why would the universe conspire to kill your parents?"

"For reasons unknown."

Tasha tsked. "I think that's sad. I would hate to believe that we're all hurtling towards a future that we can't control."

"You cannot control your destiny, Lt. Yar."

"The hell I can't. I think life is a series of decisions and consequences. My parents decided to help colonize Turkana IV. They couldn't have known what chain of events that decision would set off. They chose to stay, maybe when it wasn't safe to any longer. They died because of their decision. I chose to go, as soon as I was able to." Tasha turned to Worf. "Do you remember your Klingon parents?"

Worf stared into the distance. "Yes. Some vague impressions. Some clear memories."

Tasha nodded. "It's the same for me. Maybe if I had a picture of them, they might seem more real to me. As it is, I'm not sure if I remember them, or some dream composite. When I see them in my mind, they're so tall, and beautiful, and good. When I was a kid, I used to go back and forth between worshipping them, as if they were magic beings that could take me away from my miserable life, and hating them, as if they were devils for abandoning me. Of course, they were neither. They were just human." She shook her head. "I don't know how I got on this subject, anyway."

"Lt. Yar," Worf began, and then, "Tasha. A warrior must never be afraid to show her heart. It is the seat of courage. There," he pointed at her sternum, "is where all battles are truly fought."

Tasha smiled and moved his finger to her left. "Well, more like here."

Worf frowned.

"Sorry," Tasha said. "I hear your words, my friend." She got up. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"The rendezvous is scheduled for 1000 hours."

"I'm going to miss you. And you'll get to miss another boring diplomatic mission, you lucky dog."

"I will return in seven days' time. You will not notice that I have gone." Worf stood up as well.

"Yeah, right. Not notice the absence of a Klingon on the bridge? That's like saying I wouldn't notice if the life support systems shut down."

"In this case, you will live," Worf replied. They walked to the exit.

"Hey," Tasha piped up, "Was that a joke? You're going to tarnish your reputation if you keep that up."

Worf said nothing, but Tasha thought she detected the hint of a smile.

* * *

><p>A second coat of odorless polish added a mirror-like shine to Tasha's black boots. She put her hands into them and held them upside down, at eye level, blowing off an infinitesimal speck of lint. She crouched and goose-stepped them on the floor for a moment before pulling her hands back out. She straightened up and opened her closet, then pulled out her dress uniform. She'd only ordered one; Starfleet had changed the design twice in the last twelve months, and she wouldn't be surprised if they changed it again – this style was a dud in her book. The overcoat came down past her knees, and it was even less attractive than the one-piece skant. Tasha smiled – Riker had lost that bet. She'd only worn the ultra-short but surprisingly comfortable uniform once, just days after they'd launched. Never again – it had attracted a little too much attention for her taste. She ran her fingers over the seams of her dress coat and inspected the surface for stains. She would need to wear it at tomorrow night's banquet to honor the Ligonian delegate, presuming that they could successfully open treaty negotiations. She chewed on her lower lip at the thought; first contact with a new culture – always a mystery and a potentially dangerous situation. Hopefully, this one would come off without a hitch.<p>

"Aw, hell." She had found a split in the dart on the bodice. It opened wider at pressure from her fingers. "Right in front, where anyone would notice." Well, that was why she was checking it now, instead of tomorrow. She folded the dress coat over her arm and headed out the door.

There was hardly anyone in the corridors, unsurprising for the hour. It was about twenty minutes before midnight, but Tasha didn't feel tired, and she knew exactly why: Data-inspired insomnia. She was trying not to brood about it, but a nagging inner voice kept telling her that maybe she'd been a little too harsh with him. Maybe he was right about some of the things that he'd said. And maybe, just maybe, she had a knee-jerk reaction to push him away every time he tried to get closer to her. Maybe.

She soon reached the replication center. It was as empty of personnel as the hallways. She stepped to one of the large machines. "Access measurements for Lt. Natasha Yar. Produce one dress uniform tunic."

"Check display and confirm order." The image showed the gold braid accented black and yellow coat, complete with her virtual self inside.

"Blech."

"Repeat response. Confirm order."

"Confirmed." A metallic whirr accompanied the appearance of the finished garment. Tasha placed the old tunic in the dematerialization slot and picked up the new one.

Without asking the computer, she was sure that Data was on the bridge now with a skeleton crew, watching over all of them from several decks above. She had to hand it to him, he rolled with whatever punches she threw at him. He was so curious about life that he was up for almost anything, even her occasional blowups. He was as ready to argue with her, as he was to talk propulsion systems or mine her for her impressions on the taste of her dinner or the feel of her shower. Being with Data was sometimes like being with a child trapped in the body of a fully-grown man; in that way, he was not much different from any other adult human male she'd known. Except in his case, the dichotomy was somewhat more pronounced.

And of course he didn't mind arguing with her – he was always right. It burned her up that he was always right. Now that she'd had time to think about it, she could see that he'd offered her a reasonable compromise. So, once again, she was the bad guy. She would have to come crawling back with an apology. It wasn't fair.

Maybe she could get a little creative with her olive branch this time. After all, Data didn't care if she acted contrite or not. According to him, he wasn't the one who cared about being right. For crying out loud, he just wanted to spend more time with her. It wasn't like he was asking for her hand. Tasha turned back to the replicator.

"Display pajamas, men's style."

The images had hardly started to appear and dissolve before she said, "Halt. Computer, can I see this one in navy blue?" The image changed. "That's nice. Construct for human male, average to slender build, 100 kilos, 1.8 meters tall."

"Working."

"Wait – make the material soft, but not flimsy. Sturdy, but not stiff. And change the piping from white to blue-gray."

"Additional modifications?"

"Yes – can you put a monogram on the chest pocket?"

"Specify initials."

"Just one – D."

"Provide first, middle, and last initials."

"Computer, he only has one name."

There was a boop and a whirr. "Lt. Cdr. Data matches description provided. Discard current specifications and reference measurements for Lt. Cdr. Data?"

"Dammit, computer, mind your own business. If we weren't alone, I'd have to drop-kick you across the room."

"Discard current specifications and reference measurements– "

"Yes. Proceed." Tasha drummed her fingers on the top of the replicator. The pajama set materialized, and she pulled it out of the slot. She rubbed the fabric against her cheek. It was soft, yet sturdy.

"Perfect. Good job, computer."

"Repeat request."

"Sorry. Produce paper, gift-wrapping, silver, about 70 cm square, and paper ribbon, blue. About 90 cm."

She hoped that Data liked surprises. She would give him the gift after the banquet tomorrow night. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face.


	24. Chapter 24

"Captain." Data sat at ops, keying in commands with one hand. "Receiving a message from the Ligonian orbital communication center. The delegation is requesting a new transport site. They say that the dimensions of the transporter room are too small to receive a party of their importance, sir."

"Mon dieu. How large a room to they require?" Picard asked.

"Receiving that information now, sir. The measurements translate to," Data paused and re-checked his display. "A room at least 45 meters wide, completely flat, with ceilings at least 20 meters tall."

Sounds of disbelief broke out from the bridge crew. Riker whistled. "How many are in the delegate's party, Data?"

"Six, sir."

"Huh. Maybe the transporter room is too small to hold their egos."

Picard held up a hand. "Mr. Data, in what locations could we accommodate the Ligonians' request?"

Data turned halfway around in his chair. "Shuttle bay one and Cargo bay one would both fit the specifications, sir."

"Odd choices for a reception hall. Let's go with Cargo one. Lt. Yar, can you secure that area?"

"Of course, sir," Tasha replied.

Picard nodded. "Make it so."

Tasha tapped in her personnel orders and left the tactical station, nodding to her replacement. She entered the turbolift. "Deck 38."

At the door to the main cargo bay, she greeted her officers. "Garcia. Balal."

"Good morning, sir," Garcia replied.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?" The bulkhead doors opened on the cavernous space. There was little order to the clumps of barrels and piles of materiel scattered throughout the room.

"Balal, take the anti-grav and let's start making a clearing." Tasha looked around. "Not the most glamorous place for a reception hall, but who am I to judge?"

A half hour's work made an improvement, but the three officers agreed that the Ligonians wouldn't get a very pretty first look at the Enterprise. Tasha stood at the transporter console. "Yar to bridge."

"Riker here."

"Inform the delegation party that we have readied the cargo bay for their arrival."

"Understood. Riker out."

* * *

><p>The captain, first officer, counselor, and security chief turned away from the Ligonian delegates and their guards, all of whose faces wore varying degrees of shock and anger. Will briefly locked eyes with Tasha, who grimaced in response. The four bridge officers exited the cargo bay.<p>

"Captain, I'm sorry. I may have overreacted," Tasha immediately said.

"No need to apologize, Lieutenant. You reacted as you felt the situation warranted."

She exhaled a sound of frustration. "Not exactly the warmest welcome when we're trying to become allies."

"I don't think you did any harm," Picard reassured her, "and you certainly got their attention." He turned back to the door. "Number One, why don't you stay and escort our guests to the auditorium when they're ready."

"Aye, sir."

The other three continued walking down the corridor. The captain turned to Deanna. "First impressions?"

"The study emphasized honor and pageantry for the Ligonians, but I don't think it's possible to overstate the point. They are obsessed with ritual," Deanna replied.

"Agreed." They walked to the turbolift and stepped in. "Deck 9," ordered Picard. "They also seem to value physicality. Did you notice the scars that they all bore?"

"I did see that, sir," Tasha answered. "With the sophistication of their transporter technology, I can't imagine that they lack the medical technology to heal those marks."

"They must carry them as a sign of prowess in battle," mused Deanna.

The doors opened, and they stepped out. "The Ligonians have achieved planetary peace by limiting the resolution of differences to ritual combat between champions, rather than war," Tasha continued. "They carry those staffs for ceremonial purposes only, which is why I allowed them on the ship. The Ligonians didn't provide information about their modern weaponry. Understandable, considering that we're not yet allies."

"Hopefully, that will soon change," Picard replied.

They reached the auditorium and entered. A string quartet was rehearsing on stage, while off to the side two dancers, a man and a woman, stretched and practiced moves. A percussionist discreetly tuned his instruments. Behind the music desk of a grand piano, a pianist was making notes on a large PADD. Hovering over all of them was a thin man dressed in civilian clothes. He wore a wisp of a moustache shaved to a narrow line above his short upper lip, and his fine black hair was held back in a ponytail. The captain beckoned him over.

"Mr. Artelli?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I think we need a change in the program order. Let's have the dancers first, then the Beethoven, and the solo piano last."

Artelli's hands trembled to his mouth. "Forgive me for saying, sir, but a last minute change would spoil the rhythm of the concert."

But the uniformed members of the string quartet were already on the move. O'Brien passed his bow to his left hand and bent to push in the end pin on his cello. "You heard the captain, Artelli. We go on second." Miles turned to the first violinist. "And that'll give me another few minutes to get that bloody fourth movement run under my fingers."

"Won't help, O'Brien," she replied. "Fake city, here we come." She loosened the hair on her bow.

"Look, Ortiz, I never have time to practice. If we'd picked the Haydn instead of the Beethoven, I might've had a chance not to embarrass myself."

"Quit bellyaching. You sound fine," Ortiz replied.

The dancers and percussionist moved to take the stage, Artelli fluttering around them and the captain, who watched from the edge of the stage. Tasha and Deanna sat down in the front row of the gray built-in benches of the house. A look passed between them, and they both laughed.

"I can't believe Hagon just ignored me. Did you hear what he said? 'Out of my way, woman.' I should've cracked his skull open," Tasha said.

Deanna smiled. "I should feel offended, right? Casual brutality is unbecoming to an officer. But I was glad you took him down a peg."

"Did you get anything from the delegation?"

"Several intense feelings: surprise, curiosity, and …" Deanna's smile widened, "something else."

"Oh ho. That's not cryptic at all."

"You don't need to be an empath to sense that the men of the delegation found you … interesting."

Tasha raised both eyebrows and stifled another laugh.

The audience began to file in, among them, two senior officers. Deanna waved to Geordi and Data, who sat down beside her. Tasha and Data's eyes met, and Tasha hastily turned away.

"How was first contact with the Ligonians?" Geordi asked.

"Ceremonial. The guards and the secondary, Hagon, beamed up first and rolled out a red carpet for the delegate, Lutan," Deanna replied.

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. And then Lutan beamed onto the carpet like a conquering king. You'll see when you meet them. They are an exceedingly proud people."

Data was still trying to catch Tasha's eye. She ignored him. She no longer felt angry, but she was enjoying his low-key synthetic version of anxiety.

"Anything else we should know?" Geordi asked.

"Just sit back and watch," Deanna answered. "The captain has the situation well in hand."

Data got up and sat down next to Tasha. She rolled her eyes.

"Lt. Yar –"

"Not here." She mouthed the words with no sound.

"Then, you are still not speaking to me?" Data asked, his voice barely audible.

Tasha silently counted to ten. Sitting next to Deanna, she had to keep a tight rein on her temper.

"I see. Very well." Data was unperturbed.

The doors of the auditorium opened to Riker, who walked to the captain and whispered in his ear. The captain walked to Artelli and whispered in his ear. Artelli clapped his hands. "Places!" The dancers stepped off stage and the percussionist stood behind his battery.

Riker returned to the door. It opened, and he stood in the entrance to keep it open. The Ligonian guards entered and stood at four precise points of a square, dropping a rolled-up carpet to the floor with a scarcity of motion that was striking. Hagon stepped to the exact center of the square and unrolled the carpet with a high kick. He stepped aside, and Lutan entered. The captain walked over to greet him.

Picard turned to address the audience. "Please welcome our honored guest, Lutan of Ligon II."

Lutan bowed to the ensuing applause. He strode into the room, nodding to Troi and Yar as he passed them. Lutan and Picard sat down in two high-backed chairs placed ahead of the low built-in benches. Riker gestured an after-you to Hagon, and they walked into the room. The guards remained where they stood, as motionless as statues. Hagon stopped before Tasha and inclined a bow to her. She lifted her chin and bobbed a curt nod. Riker and Hagon passed the aisle and sat down on the bench beside and just behind Picard and Lutan.

Geordi leaned across Deanna and whispered to Tasha, "What was that about?"

"Tell you later," she whispered back.

Artelli dimmed the lights, and the percussionist started to play, the two dancers bursting onto the stage with powerful grand jetés. Their costumes were spare and covered little of their muscular bodies. Everyone in the room was instantly riveted; even the four Ligonian guards were captivated by the athletic pas de deux. The percussionist seemed to be a part of the dance himself as he switched from tuned drums to tubular bells with flawless coordination. The dance increased in intensity, culminating in a series of complicated lifts and spins. The music roared to the finish; the final pose, the male dancer holding the female aloft at the ribs, forming a curving capital T. The audience erupted in applause.

"Incredible," marveled Tasha.

"Impressive," Deanna agreed. "The captain was right to switch the order. That was supposed to be the finale."

There was a quiet rumble of talk as the house lights came up and Artelli set the stage for the string quartet.

"I hope the rest isn't too tame in comparison," Geordi said.

"I should think not," Data replied. "The ensemble will perform Beethoven String Quartet No. 11 in F minor, Opus 95, subtitled, 'Serious.' It has a tumultuous first movement that juxtaposes the jagged though scalar primary theme with the lyrical secondary theme. If executed well, it should make for an exciting listening experience."

His three fellow officers received his analysis with blank expressions. Data sat back and faced forward again. Tasha looked at Geordi and shrugged.

The quartet took their places onstage and bowed to the audience's welcoming applause. The house lights went back down. The players tuned their instruments briefly and began.

As Data had predicted, the first movement was exciting. Tasha found her attention wandering during the slow second movement, however, and began to look around her. On her right, Deanna seemed to be concentrating. Geordi seemed to be sleeping upright in his seat, given away only by an occasional, spasmodic nodding off. Tasha looked to her left. Data turned slightly to her when she did, and their eyes met. This time, she felt the familiar jolt. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him for very long. He was sitting close enough for her to surreptitiously press her thigh against his. Data's face relaxed by a fraction and he faced front. She looked across the aisle at Riker, who was watching the captain. Picard was listening intently. Tasha shifted her gaze to Lutan, who was staring directly at her. She jerked her head to the front again with a quick intake of breath through her nose. Both Deanna and Data turned to look at her. Tasha hazarded a second look at Lutan; he was still boring his eyes into her. Tasha felt her ears go hot.

The third movement of the piece sounded as agitated as she suddenly felt. Deanna was right; Tasha didn't need to be an empath to discern what Lutan thought of her.

* * *

><p>The concert was over, and the Ligonian party had again asked for time alone before meeting the senior officers in the observation lounge. Their leave-taking had been as ritualized as their arrival. The captain was congratulating the performers, while the five bridge officers talked together.<p>

"Which part did you like best, Bill?" Deanna asked.

"The last piece – the Gubaidulina sonata. It sounded like jazz in parts," he replied.

"There are elements of 20th century jazz to the composition, and the percussive use of the body and strings of the piano hearkened back to the music that opened the concert. It was a fortunate programmatic choice," Data expounded.

"Data, none of us are musicians. Why do you insist on going over our heads like that?" Tasha caviled.

"I'm a musician," Will countered.

"You are?"

"Sure. I play jazz trombone," he finished nonchalantly.

"You do?" Tasha turned to Deanna. "Did you know that?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I didn't know that."

"It didn't go over my head," Geordi added. "I thought that the last piece reminded me of the first piece, too. Data just had a very precise way of saying it."

"Well. I suppose he only went over my head, then. Forget I said anything. See you all in the lounge." Tasha walked to the door and left.

"Don't mind her," Deanna assured them. "The first reception was somewhat trying. Hagon tried to present a sample of the vaccine to the captain. When he wouldn't let Tasha inspect it, she threw him across the room."

Data and Geordi exchanged a look. Geordi whistled. "Remind me again never to cross her. Is that why Hagon bowed to her when he came in?"

"Yes, but he was being ironic. I did not get a sense of respect from Hagon," Deanna answered.

"Well, Lutan couldn't take his eyes off of her," commented Will.

"I noticed that, too. They were all quite put off by the idea of a female security chief. Lutan seems to have zeroed in on her since they were introduced," said Deanna.

"How does Lt. Yar's gender relate to the Ligonians' discomfort?" Data asked.

Geordi answered, "Access files about gender concepts before the mid-twenty-first century on Earth, and you'll see a correlation."

Data's eyes scanned as he followed Geordi's directions. "Ah. Curious." He looked at his fellow officers. "But illogical. Tasha is obviously qualified for her job."

"That's what disturbs them, Data," Deanna replied. "She presents a challenge to their deeply held, institutionally reinforced prejudiced beliefs."

"I'm interested to see how all of this plays out," said Will.

"Too bad I'm due back on the bridge," Geordi said. "Something tells me I'm going to miss all the good stuff today. Tell me what happens." He headed to the exit.

* * *

><p>Picard shared a wary look with Riker as Tasha, Lutan, and Hagon left the observation lounge. He turned to his senior staff. "Thoughts?"<p>

Will spoke first. "It's a promising beginning, if we can take Lutan at his word."

"Can we?" Picard asked Troi.

"I get a definite sense of duality from Lutan, but that's not unusual for humanoids. I don't sense any overt deception," Deanna answered.

"They do seem highly interested in Lt. Yar," Data remarked.

"Yes. I hope that is to our advantage," the captain replied.

In the hall, Tasha gestured to Kelly and Jenkins to join her. Tasha led the way to the turbolift. It was a snug fit for five people. She took a moment to talk to her team.

"Good to see you back on duty, Kelly."

"Glad to be back, sir. I feel fit as ever," the red-haired ensign replied.

"Was your officer injured, Lt. Yar?" Lutan inquired politely.

"All three of us were," Tasha replied, sharing a look with Jenkins. "It happened on duty about a week ago. There were six attackers, and three of us. We did prevail in the end, though."

"You show no sign of injury," said Lutan, looking her over.

"No. Our medical staff is exceptional in their healing abilities," Tasha replied. She tried to ignore his scrutiny.

The doors opened on deck 12. "And yet, your medical people have not found a cure for the Anchilles fever." Lutan stepped out first at a gesture from Tasha. The others followed.

She led the way down the corridor. "No. In that respect, your people have surpassed us."

"In that respect. In others, our technology is quite inferior, is it not?"

Tasha decided not to answer. They had almost reached holodeck 3.

"There is much that you could teach us, Lt. Yar," Lutan concluded.

* * *

><p>Tasha stood at ease in the captain's ready room. Picard sat behind his desk.<p>

"How did Lutan find the holodeck?" he asked.

"He was impressed, by it and, at his own admission, by me." Tasha looked and sounded nervous.

"Is there something more, Lieutenant?"

"Hagon ended up flat on his face again, sir. This time, Lutan laughed at him. I ran the basic Aikido simulation, and Hagon took it on. It really wasn't fair – he didn't last two seconds. But Lutan insisted."

"Hmmm." Picard looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you think it hurt or helped?"

Tasha shook her head. "I honestly don't know, sir. Lutan seemed satisfied, but I may have made an enemy of Hagon."

"Lutan is the one that matters for our negotiations. All in all, I'd say we've had a positive beginning, but let's not drop our guard."

"Aye, sir."

Picard rose, and they left the ready room and stepped out onto the bridge. Lutan and Hagon stood with Riker and Troi.

"Ah, Captain. We have seen the might of the Federation in this great vessel Enterprise. An alliance with such a formidable people would be a wise choice," Lutan announced.

"Well said, Lutan. We are honored to have had you as our guest, and we look forward to honoring you further at the banquet tonight," replied Picard.

"The honor is ours. Now, I must go back to my planet and tell my people of our visit. Shall we return to the transport site?"

"Yes, of course. Counselor Troi. Lt. Yar." The captain led the way to the turbolift.

Once the delegates had left, Data, seated at ops, turned to Geordi at the helm. "What do you think of the Ligonians?"

Geordi turned to him. "Don't they ever get cold?"

There was silence as the five walked the short distance to cargo bay one from the turbolift. Tasha could feel Hagon's gaze on her, and she hoped that there wasn't enmity behind it. She would have to ask Deanna once they were alone.

They entered the cargo bay, and Lutan broke the silence. "Well, well, my new friends of the noble Enterprise..."

"Understanding has made friends of many different people," the captain broke in. "We've had a good beginning, Lutan."

"May I also extend a personal farewell to Lt. Yar," Lutan approached her with his right hand outstretched, Hagon on his heels, "in your Federation terms?"

Before anyone could react, Lutan had grasped Tasha by the shoulder and crushed her to him in a one-armed embrace, simultaneously signaling for transport. Tasha gasped, and her next, strangled sound was cut off as all three of them dematerialized.

Once she felt the familiar sensation of re-materialization and the stasis field released her, Tasha didn't hesitate. She went limp and slipped down out of Lutan's grasp, bobbing up and dancing back a few steps. She barely had time to take in her surroundings – some kind of ceremonial hall with pillars and a fountain – before Hagon reacted. "Hold her!" he ordered.

Four guards rushed to obey. The first one ran at her; she threw him as easily as she had Hagon on the ship, the guard's momentum keeping him airborne for a few seconds before he sprawled on the floor with a squeak of skin on marble. The other three exchanged looks and charged her at once. Tasha let loose a forward kick and connected with the face of the closest guard. His head snapped up and he staggered back. The second circled behind her and tried to pin her arms, as the third grabbed at her legs from the front. She threw a rear block above her head and felt her knuckles hit skull. She leaned forward and launched a back kick, switching legs quickly to a hitch kick forward, both feet off the ground, both kicks sinking into soft abdomen flesh. Both men hit the floor. The fourth guard had hesitated, his eyes fearful. The sound of running boots on stone heralded the approach of more guards. Tasha picked up one of the ceremonial staffs that the guards had dropped and swung it experimentally. Hagon looked from the fourth guard to Tasha and moved forward slowly.

"Just try it!" she shouted, brandishing the staff.

"Enough!" Lutan clapped his hands. Hagon and the four guards who had just run into the hall all stopped in their tracks. "Have you forgotten the vaccine, Lt. Yar?"

Tasha threw the staff away. It clanged loudly on the marble floor. "Lutan, what have you done? Return me to my ship immediately." As if to give weight to her words, a far off explosion shook the hall. "Cpt. Picard won't stand for this. You have committed an unfriendly act."

"The captain will have no choice." Lutan addressed his guards. "Take Lt. Yar to guest quarters."

The five men looked at each other, and then at the guards who were writhing in pain on the floor. Two of the four newcomers walked towards her hesitantly. Tasha took an attack stance as one of them reached out to take her arm.

"Do it and draw back a bloody stump," she said through her teeth.

"Lt. Yar!" Lutan approached her slowly. "You are our honored guest. Please allow my guards to escort you to your room. You will not be mistreated."

Tasha was thrown into confusion. If the Enterprise hadn't yet beamed her up, then they must not be able to get a lock on her. They hadn't fired again, so the first shots must have been a warning. There was no sign of the transporter controls that had brought her there, and she doubted that she could contact the ship. She was outmaneuvered. She would have to wait it out.

"Don't even think about touching me," she snapped at the nearest guard.

"Escort our guest to her quarters," Lutan repeated, with an edge of warning in his voice.

The four guards surrounded Tasha. She walked between them, out of the ceremonial hall. A wall of weapons caught her eye as they passed it – why hadn't she noticed it before? Fat lot of good it would do her now. The guards led her to a bulkhead that opened diagonally on a large, well-lit, luxuriously decorated room. A young woman was making the bed; she beat a hasty path to the door when they entered, throwing a fearful look at Tasha as she passed. The guards turned away, and the door slid to a close behind them.

Tasha tapped her communicator. Nothing. She looked around the enormous room: tasteful, obviously expensive furniture and linens made up the décor, and the centerpiece was the biggest bed she'd ever seen. She supposed it made sense for a people that practiced polygamy. She sat down on the edge of it.

She had to fight an impulse to trash the place. It would be easy to, and it might make her feel better, but she knew she couldn't. Kidnapped! Chief of Security on the Federation flagship, and she'd been kidnapped. A procession of profanities entered her mind. She quashed that impulse, too; they belonged to a vocabulary that she had long ago trained herself not to use. But she was simmering with anger. She would be forced to wait until the captain found a way to rescue her.

That thought broke her resistance. She leapt to her feet and spun around, kicking the bed and letting one sulfurous expletive fly. "It's not fair! I just spent four days cooped up in my room!"


	25. Chapter 25

If there were any listening devices in the room, they were invisible. Tasha had searched every centimeter, down to the fronds of the potted plants. Whatever was shielding her communicator from external contact must block the Ligonian technology as well, so at least she knew she had privacy. The universal translator was still working, but otherwise, her comm. badge was useless.

She paced restlessly around the room. Who knew how much time had passed? There were no windows to show the motion of the sun in the sky. The brief look that she'd gotten in the grand hall had told her that the compound was on the top of a mountain; she'd glimpsed a city several kilometers away with a forested area intervening. It had been light out when she'd materialized, but that didn't tell her much, since she didn't know the season.

The door opened, and Tasha took a defensive posture. Two guards flanked a tiny, exquisitely beautiful woman dressed in flowing, iridescent robes. She was heavily made up and had a regal bearing, despite her petite stature. "I am Yareena, Lutan's First One." She held up both hands with her palms out.

Tasha mirrored her gesture. "Lt. Natasha Yar of the USS Enterprise."

Yareena cast an appraising glance over the room. "I trust that you have been comfortable."

"No, I'm not comfortable," Tasha retorted. "I'm being held here against my will."

"I will return presently with some refreshment. If there is anything that you require, you need only ask," Yareena went on.

"I ask to be returned to my ship immediately," Tasha replied.

"If you would excuse me." Yareena swept out, followed by the two guards.

"Are you DEAF?" Tasha shouted at the closed door.

Minutes later, the door opened to Yareena, the guards, and another beautiful woman, even tinier than Yareena, holding a tray with a pitcher and two mugs. She set the pitcher and mugs down on a high table. The second woman was elegantly dressed, but less dazzlingly than Yareena.

"This is Kimorah, Lutan's Second One," Yareena announced. Kimorah stood with perfect poise, her chin high.

"Well, Lutan certainly has a type." Tasha had decided to dispense with politeness. If courtesy wasn't going to get her anywhere, maybe bitchiness would.

"I have brought you drink. We will soon gather for food. Observe the abundance of this house," Yareena intoned. Kimorah poured a bright red liquid from the pitcher into one of the mugs. She held it up and tasted it, wiping the surface and handing the cup to Yareena with a bow. Yareena took the cup and drank from it, and then poured the second mug full from the pitcher.

"Brother. I can just imagine what dinner's gonna be like," grumbled Tasha.

Yareena held the cup out to her. Tasha took it and tasted the contents – tangy and slightly sweet. She drank it off.

"You will be well cared for so long as you are our guest." Yareena turned to go with a swish of her robes.

"Yareena," Tasha said quietly. The queenly woman turned back. "A cage is still a cage, no matter how gilded." Tasha looked into the proud eyes, trying to get through. Yareena turned her back and marched out the door. Kimorah followed her, but she looked back at Tasha just before the doors closed. Tasha could swear that she saw sympathy in that look.

* * *

><p>The captain surveyed his bridge crew. Fatigue was evident on every face but Data's. "Enough of this. Stand down yellow alert."<p>

"Sir?" Riker's voice was gruff.

"You've all been on duty for 13 hours straight. We'll continue to scan the planet. But we won't find Lt. Yar any faster by staying up all night."

"Captain -" Will began to protest.

"That's an order."

The senior officers exchanged weary looks and began to leave their stations.

"Deanna, Data, we'll reconvene at 0700 to further analyze the briefing study," ordered Riker.

"Understood," Deanna replied.

Data nodded and got up from ops. "Captain, I do not require rest. Permission to remain on duty."

"Granted. I'll be in my ready room."

Data sat down in the captain's chair as relief officers took stations around the bridge. There had been no response to the captain's messages from anyone in the Ligonian government. There had been no ransom demands, no bargaining points, nothing but silence. Without determining Lutan's intentions, it was impossible to know for sure if Tasha was safe or in danger. Data continued to analyze his own copy of the Ligon II briefing study, searching for answers.

* * *

><p>The one good thing about the room she was trapped in was its size. There was plenty of space for old-fashioned calisthenics. Tasha alternated between plyometric and aerobic exercises, determined not to feel bored. She was doing explosive pushups when the door opened. She jumped to her feet in one graceful motion.<p>

Yareena and Kimorah were back with the guards. Yareena spoke. "I have brought you suitable raiment for dinner. Join us in our center place."

Kimorah presented Tasha with a fluttery garment draped over her extended forearms. Tasha picked it up gingerly and shook it out. It was gorgeous – the fabric was iridescent pink and gold in a complex, almost organic pattern, cut in a loose sheath dress that would fall to the ankles and split to the hip.

Tasha gulped. "You don't really expect me to put that on and parade around for Lutan's amusement, do you? It's not happening, Yareena." Tasha handed the dress back to Kimorah. "I won't play along with this charade. You can call me a guest all you like, but you know that I'm a prisoner."

Yareena's eyes flashed. "You refuse to obey our customs?"

"Yes, I refuse! And if you try to force me, I will resist." Tasha looked at the guards, one of whom she recognized. He'd been facedown on the floor the last time she saw him, and he had a shiner to prove it. "You know that I'm capable of resistance."

"You dishonor your house," said Yareena severely.

"I don't _have _a house. My home is the Enterprise. Do you understand that Lutan has taken me from my home? And I don't even know why. Please, return me to my ship. I don't know what can be accomplished by my being here, besides the delay of our mission to help thousands of suffering people."

Kimorah gave a little gasp, but Yareena whipped around and silenced her with an upraised finger. "I do not question the actions of my First One."

"Well, maybe you should." Tasha turned and paced for a moment. The guards tensed up, and she turned back and stood still with her arms folded behind her. "Yareena, I won't cooperate. If you want to feed me, I'll eat here, alone, in my uniform. I ask for that much." Tasha tried to make it sound non-combative.

Yareena raised her small chin. "It shall be as you have said. I will not disturb you further. A servant will bring your tray. If you have any needs, Kimorah will see to them." She spun on her heel and left.

Kimorah relaxed her stance by a micrometer. She looked timidly at Tasha. "Do you not like the dress?" she asked.

Tasha exhaled a laugh, despite herself. "It's beautiful. But it's not the dress – it's the principle."

Kimorah looked at Tasha with confusion. "You do not understand our ways."

"No, I don't. In the Federation, to hold a person against her will is a grave offense."

Kimorah recovered herself. "You should feel honored," she said with disdain.

Tasha sighed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly weary.

"There are chairs, there, and there, for sitting," Kimorah pointed out.

Tasha put her head in her hands. "Please. Just leave me alone."

* * *

><p>"Have you located Lt. Yar's life signs?" Data asked, seated in the captain's chair.<p>

"No, sir. Still not reading any human life signs on the planet," replied the officer at Science I.

"Which would point to two possibilities: either Lt. Yar is being held in a location that masks her signal, or she is no longer –" Data cut himself off. Humans never spoke casually about death, even theoretically. The probability was higher that Tasha was alive, but the possibility that she was not was within the realm of conjecture, especially in light of the statistical information about abductions that he had accessed. After 24 hours without contact from the abductor, the probability of recovering the abductee was reduced to 10%. Ten hours had passed since Lt. Yar had been taken. The outlook could still be positive. He decided to focus on the positive for the time being.

* * *

><p>Tasha looked in vain for a keypad to turn off the lights before she discovered that they would dim with a wave of the hand. She wasn't sure of the hour. "Computer-" she stopped herself. Force of habit. She felt tired, so she supposed that it was late enough to go to sleep. No one had offered her another change of clothes – for all she knew, everyone in the compound slept naked. She didn't plan to, but she didn't feel like asking for help. Her uniform would do.<p>

She pulled back the covers on the enormous bed. She wondered what her friends were doing at that moment, safe on the Enterprise, orbiting around her thousands of kilometers away. If only Tasha could look out a window, maybe she could catch a glimpse of her, a twinkling beacon of blue and red like a heavenly protector above the atmosphere. Tasha wondered if Deanna could sense her from so far away, and if they were all worried about her. Data wouldn't be worried, couldn't be, but he would be working to rescue her, concerned in his own way. It was a comforting thought. She sat down, pulled off her boots and socks, and got under the covers. She hoped for dreamless sleep.

The next day was harder. Tasha felt the disruption of her routine more keenly: she didn't know the time, she had had to take a bath in a tub and put her day-old clothes back on, and there was no coffee to be had on the planet. She felt annoyed, but knew that it could be much worse. A servant had left a bowl of fruit and a jug of water for her breakfast. She hadn't seen anyone else; she could barely remember what Lutan's face looked like. Yesterday seemed like ages ago. Funny, she still had a pretty accurate recall of his body.

The door opened and three guards entered. "You will come with us," ordered one.

A knot tightened in Tasha's stomach. "Come with you where?" she demanded.

The guard who'd spoken handed his staff to another and moved as if to grab her. She took his arms and sent him spinning on the floor behind her. She backed away from them, keeping all three in her line of sight.

"When are you guys gonna learn? Just answer the damn question. Where are we going?"

"Lutan requests your presence," said the second guard, trying to keep his voice formal. She recognized him as the man with the shiner from the day before. His left eye was swollen nearly shut. The first guard dusted himself off and took back his staff.

Tasha glared at them. "Fine. But I'm warning you: don't touch me." She walked out between two of the guards, the third one bringing up the rear. Soon, she could smell fresh air and hear a fountain. She took a deep breath and stretched her arms out. The wounded guard took the opportunity to grab her upper arm.

"Hey! What did I say?" The rest of the walk was a struggle, as she grunted and tried to shake him off. To her embarrassment, standing in the open hall was the captain and the counselor. Tasha was glad to see them, but angry that the guard had tried to make her lose face. They stopped directly in front of the captain.

"Have you been treated well, Lieutenant?"

She wrenched her arm out of the guard's hold and glowered at him. She nodded to Picard. "Fine, Captain. But they're showing some signs of wear." She looked back at the swollen face of the guard with a superior smile.

Hagon, Yareena, and Lutan stood near the trio of officers. "There isn't any need to be concerned, Captain," Yareena said. "She's being well cared for."

Tasha was overjoyed just to be near her crewmates, and waited while Lutan and Picard exchanged silver-tongued pleasantries.

"The festivities for her return to you are in preparation. Shall we retire until then?" asked Lutan.

"Until then, Lutan," agreed Picard.

Lutan turned to Yareena. "See to rooms for the captain and the counselor."

She inclined her head. "This way."

Tasha fell into step with Deanna behind the captain. Deanna grabbed her hand and squeezed it, quickly letting go, her face an elegant mask.

"I don't know if they'll let me stay with you," Tasha whispered. "This is the first time I haven't been under guard."

"We'll find out. Is there anything you need?" Deanna asked.

"A change of clothes. Sorry if I'm ripe," Tasha answered. "My dopp kit. And a type-1 phaser."

Deanna smiled.

"My communicator doesn't work in the room where they're holding me," Tasha continued.

"Yes, we couldn't find your signal."

They reached a door that opened on an even larger room than the one Tasha had occupied. There was a window at the rear, and more of the elegant furnishings and decorations.

"These will be your accommodations, Captain," Yareena announced. "Do they meet with your approval?"

"Palatial," he replied.

"Counselor, I will show you to your room," Yareena went on.

"I prefer to remain with the captain for the moment," Deanna answered.

"As you wish. Lt. Yar?"

Two guards appeared on that signal. Tasha looked from Deanna to the captain. Picard held her gaze and gave her a reassuring nod. She turned and followed the guards out of the room.

Yareena left, and another two guards took up posts at the doorway. The captain shared a look with Deanna, and then tapped his comm. badge.

"Picard to Enterprise."

"Riker here."

Deanna interrupted. "Lt. Yar said that her communicator was disabled in her room. Evidently, they're not shielding this room."

Picard nodded. "We have just seen Lt. Yar. She has not been harmed. Are you able to pick up her signal?"

"We were, for a few minutes. We just lost it again."

"Keep trying. And keep a lock on Counselor Troi and myself."

"Aye, sir."

"Picard out."

Deanna asked, "May I beam back to the ship, sir? Tasha needs a clean uniform and some other personal items."

He shook his head. "I want you on hand in case anything should arise." He thought for a moment. "Ask Cdr. Data to take care of it. Tasha won't think anything of having him go through her things."

"Good idea." She tapped her communicator. "Troi to Cdr. Data."

"Data here."

"Could you put together a full change of clothes for Lt. Yar, and get her dopp bag from her quarters? I'll give you the transporter coordinates when you're ready."

"Affirmative. Data out."

On the Enterprise, Data typed in his security override and entered Tasha's quarters. The cabin was perfectly orderly, as usual. He had never been inside when she was absent, and it seemed wrong, somehow, that she was not there now. He opened her closet and pulled out a hard-sided duffel bag and two uniforms. He laid them on the dining table and began to touch the drawer locks. He gathered socks, undergarments, and a pair of pajamas, all standard issue and black or white. Tasha was indifferent to niceties of dress but she hated to be dirty. He was certain that she was feeling perturbed at that very moment, down on the planet, by the necessity of wearing soiled clothing. He keyed all of the drawers shut, deposited the articles on the table with her uniforms and walked into her bedroom. He intended to go straight through to her bathroom, but an unfamiliar object caught his eye.

It was an article of clothing, deep blue. It lay on a sheet of silver paper with a blue ribbon coiled beside it. In the past two weeks, Data had become familiar with Tasha's leisure clothes; she did not keep a large variety. This one did not match any of those in his memory records. He was curious, and examined it more closely. It was folded, and a chest pocket faced up with a letter D embroidered on it in blue-gray. He unfolded it and held it up. There were two items, and the one that he held was a pajama top. He looked at it long enough to definitively eliminate the possibility that Tasha had replicated it for herself. It was too large for her, and her name did not contain the letter D. It was unlikely that she had made it for Counselor Troi. There was only one possible conclusion. Data sat down on Tasha's bed.

Data had received gifts before, but had yet to react in a way that met with approval from human gift-givers. In the past, he had tried to display gratitude, indifference, surprise, or humility, but it was never in quite the right proportion. He thought himself fortunate to have no birthday, and humans did not note the anniversary of his activation. His only comfort was that some humans faced the prospect of gift giving or receiving with equal consternation.

This would have been the first gift that he would have received from a crewmate on the Enterprise. He pondered the time frame for its creation – Tasha must have procured it some time before she was abducted but after they had quarreled. At no time had Data perceived that she had relented in her feelings of anger towards him, save for that brief moment during the concert when she had made physical contact with him. Did that mean that she was duplicitous? Or was she capable of simultaneously feeling both anger and interest in giving him a gift?

He thought more on it. The gift was a set of clothes to sleep in. It had significance in the context of their quarrel. Perhaps she wished to show him that she was willing to compromise, despite being angry. That would not be duplicitous. It would be quite decent.

Data realized that Tasha had been abducted before she could complete her gesture. In a way, he had been robbed of an experience that might have been memorable. Special, even. It was a strange kind of thievery, to be deprived of an experience that was to happen in the future, but could now never be.

Several minutes had passed in contemplation – a long stretch of time for his positronic brain. Data folded the pajama top and laid it back on the nightstand atop the matching pants. He walked into Tasha's bathroom, once more focused on completing his task.

* * *

><p>The isolation was starting to get to Tasha. Except for the few minutes that she'd spent with Troi and the captain, her only visitors had been servants who had brought her own bag and food and drink. She'd been grateful to change into clean clothes, and Deanna hadn't missed a thing. She'd even provided pajamas that Tasha fervently hoped she wouldn't need. Lutan was throwing some big party right at that moment, and then she was finally going home. All in all, the ordeal hadn't been as bad as all that.<p>

The doors opened, and a guard stepped into the room. "It is time."

Tasha strode out behind him with her head up and her shoulders back. The sunset was staining the sky a deep pink. They entered the great hall, now filled with people, the sound of percussion, and the smell of spices and perfume. After two days in almost total seclusion, she found it overwhelming, but tried to take it all in: the fancifully dressed guests, performing jugglers, rushing servants, and there on a dais, Lutan, Yareena, and Kimorah, with Hagon just below them and the captain and counselor to one side. Lutan rose and indicated a seat at his left hand.

A hush fell, and the captain stood to speak. Tasha felt so proud of him. He was eloquent, urbane, and not to be outdone by the Ligonians. A murmur of approval rippled through the assembled guests as he spoke. Tasha turned to Lutan with a look of triumph.

Lutan was full of praise – how could he not be? But when he looked at her, his eyes shone with undisguised avarice. She felt sudden trepidation.

"Your conduct in this matter has been beyond exemplary, Captain," Lutan said. "But now that the moment has come, I find I cannot part with her."

Gasps burst from the company, and Yareena fixed Tasha with a look of hate. Tasha felt a roaring in her head. This couldn't be happening. She wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her thighs. What could Lutan want with her?

The captain immediately protested, command in his voice. Lutan shouted back, and the rumble of talk from the assembled company grew louder. Nothing was getting through the confused emotions washing over her. Lutan was declaring his love for her – what? It was unbelievable. Yareena stormed to her feet and thundered a challenge, Hagon shouting back at her. Tasha was suddenly the center of a melodrama. She had never imagined that Lutan had kidnapped her out of love. It was like something out of a novel.

Yareena growled out, "Natasha Yar, I challenge you – a struggle to the death!"

"No!" Picard shouted. Tasha felt like time had sped up and slowed down all at once. A struggle to the death. Over Lutan? Over the vaccine? What was happening?

Lutan's booming voice silenced the babble from the guests. He shouted for his guards. Tasha looked at the captain helplessly. She was too stunned to protest when the guard took her arm and pulled her away. She kept her eyes on the captain, silently pleading for help.

Tasha had recovered enough to jerk her arm out of the guard's grasp by the time they'd reached her room. She thought she'd said goodbye to those four walls; now, everything had changed. A struggle to the death – when? Where? Would they drag her back out and set her loose on that arrogant little princess? Tasha hit the floor and started warming up. If they came for her, she'd be ready.

* * *

><p>"Picard to Enterprise."<p>

"Riker here." Will waited, expecting to hear coordinates for the beam-out.

"Number One, the banquet did not end as planned."

"Sir?" Will sat up in the captain's chair. Geordi and Data half-turned to watch him.

"Lutan has refused to return Lt. Yar to the ship. He has asked that she become his primary wife. His current primary wife has challenged Lt. Yar to a death match." As the words came out over the comm., Picard's pace had slowed more and more until the last two words had long pauses between them.

"_What_?" Will stood, and Geordi and Data exchanged looks, Geordi's mouth open.

"There is no time to explain. Counselor Troi and I must confer with Lt. Yar immediately. Picard out."

"Captain!" Will sat back down. "He drops a bomb like that and just signs off?"

"Did I hear all of that right?" Geordi asked.

"Shall I replay the file?" Data inquired.

"No. Hearing it again won't make it any less crazy," Geordi answered.

"Lutan wishes to marry Lt. Yar," Data said, half to himself. "He will not be successful."

"No kidding," Geordi replied.


	26. Chapter 26

Data and Geordi looked at the wall of weapons. The morning sunlight glinted on the hewn metal surfaces and made them look deceptively decorative.

"Did you notice that the captain didn't specify how we're supposed to analyze these things with no tricorder?" Geordi asked. "I'm not all for running my finger along the edges."

"Perhaps the Ligonians would allow us to beam one weapon back to the Enterprise for analysis," Data suggested.

"Can't hurt to ask." Geordi turned to his friend. "Doesn't this all seem a little unreal?"

Data nodded. "But it is real, and as you pointed out, it is not a joke."

* * *

><p>Beverly waited in transporter room two. On the transport pad, an object materialized: a metal scimitar with short, jagged teeth on its lower edge.<p>

"Barbaric," she said with disgust. She bent down to take it.

O'Brien stood at the console. "Careful, Doc."

She threw him a look over her shoulder and, touching it by only the handle, slid the weapon into her sample case. "This whole exercise is ludicrous. How many people will die while we play their stupid game?" she asked bitterly.

* * *

><p>The door opened, and one guard stood in the entryway. "Captain Picard requests your presence."<p>

Tasha stood. The guard stepped aside to let her pass. He led her through the center place, where she heard a familiar voice.

"Tasha!" Geordi took two quick steps toward her, but three guards sprang to life, immediately surrounding him. "Whoa. Sorry," Geordi said, his hands up.

Tasha leveled warning looks at the guards, and they backed off, two of them returning to their posts beside two massive gongs hanging in frames. The third moved a respectful distance away.

Geordi raised his eyebrows. "I was going to hug you, but never mind. I'm just glad you're all right."

"I'm glad to see you, too, Geordi," replied Tasha. She walked with him to the wall of weapons, where Data was standing. Her heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't want to say or do anything that would give her away. She came nearer and fought the impulse to throw her arms around him.

Data showed no change of expression as he watched her approach. "Tasha. It is good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too, Data." She clenched and unclenched her fists.

"Are you feeling okay, Tasha?" Geordi asked.

She turned back to him. "I'm fine, considering. What do you think of the art work?"

"Dr. Crusher is analyzing one of these weapons back on the Enterprise," Geordi replied.

"Back on the Enterprise," Tasha repeated. It sounded like paradise. "Was she able to replicate the vaccine?"

"No. And the last reports we got from Styrus IV estimated the death toll in the millions, if we don't respond soon."

"Geordi, no!"

"I'm sorry. It's true. The fate of a whole planet is riding on this fight."

"Do you have to remind me?" Tasha turned to the guard. "I'm ready." But she hesitated, and looked back at Data.

"We must remain here and continue our analysis of the weapons," Data said.

"Understood." She turned away and followed the guard through the compound.

Picard and Troi were sitting in low, backless chairs when Tasha entered. They rose to meet her.

"You called for me, Captain?"

"Lieutenant, how would you judge your rapport with Yareena?" Picard asked her.

Tasha looked at Deanna and back at the captain. "I'm pretty sure she hates me, sir."

"Well, I would like for you to try to reason with her. It is our duty to approach violence as a last resort. Perhaps if you explain the dire situation on Styrus IV to Yareena, she will put aside her hate and withdraw the challenge."

Tasha looked at Deanna again. "Wouldn't this be a better job for Counselor Troi?"

"I have no established relationship with Yareena," Deanna said. "You do."

Tasha sighed. "I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask. Our options are limited, and time is not on our side," replied Picard.

"Yes, sir." Tasha walked to the door and left with the guard.

* * *

><p>The meeting with Yareena went even worse than Tasha had imagined. She had barely been able to get out a full sentence. Yareena was fiercely proud, and Tasha felt that she hadn't done more than anger the other woman. In truth, she felt angrier herself. Tasha walked back to the captain's guest quarters with a guard shadowing her. Geordi and Data were there with Picard and Troi.<p>

"She won't budge," Tasha reported. "She loves him, without reservation." Her eyes went involuntarily to Data. "And she thinks I love him, too."

Data held her gaze. "Most interesting. Do you?"

"Of course I don't, Data! As Troi pointed out to me, I'm attracted to him, but that's entirely different."

Over Picard's comm. badge came, "Riker to Captain."

"Go ahead, Riker. We're alone," Picard replied.

"We're fine-tuned enough to see your hosts gathering in the open area outside, sir. Three of them are heading for your location."

"Thank you, Number One." Picard looked at Tasha. "Lieutenant, you still feel that you want to go through with this challenge? You judge your condition good?"

"I judge it excellent, sir," Tasha replied with conviction.

The door opened, and Hagon entered with two guards bearing four red lacquered boxes.

"Your weapons, Lt. Yar," Hagon announced with an outstretched hand. "You may choose your size." They turned and left.

All five officers approached the ominous-looking boxes. Tasha opened one. The weapon inside would have fit in on Qo'noS – she briefly wished that Worf were there to see it. It was made to fit over the arm and hand, topped by a spiked mace ending in a hook. It was ugly and deadly, like a spiny prehistoric bird. She began to take it out by its gauntlet.

"Tasha, don't touch the spines," Geordi warned. "They're poisoned. If you're not careful, you could kill yourself."

Tasha shook her head, her eyes on the brutal metal surface. "These I understand."

A noise through the open window attracted their attention. In the center place, an arena had been erected, where Yareena was practicing with the spiked, horned glavin. She grunted and swung, graceful and vicious, on the poles of the fighting cage. The officers crowded together to watch her. Deanna threw a look of concern at Tasha, who met her eyes, feeling more trepidation than she had moments before.

Tasha stepped away from the window. "I'd better go warm up," she said to Picard.

He nodded, looking thoughtfully out the window. "Mr. Data, you sent a weapon to the Enterprise for analysis?"

"Yes, sir. Dr. Crusher sent it back with a tricorder containing the results."

The captain tapped his communicator. "Picard to Dr. Crusher."

"Crusher here."

"Doctor, the Ligonian poison – could you synthesize an antidote?"

"Yes, sir. I still have the results in the lab."

"Make it so. Stand by for further instructions." He turned to Deanna. "Counselor, I believe I may have a plan. I'll need your help to organize the details."

"Yes, sir."

"Geordi, I'd like you to take a look at the arena. See if there are any hidden dangers we should be aware of. Hagon didn't mention to us that the weapons were poisoned. They may be withholding other information."

"Aye, sir."

"We'll reconvene here in a quarter of an hour." They began to disband.

Tasha turned to Data. "A word, Commander?"

"Of course." They walked to the door. The guard did not remark Data's presence, and turned away as usual after depositing the two of them in Tasha's room. The door slid shut behind him.

Tasha finally let loose. "What the hell was that back there? Right in front of the captain!"

"To what are you referring?" Data calmly asked.

"As if you don't know. Asking me if I'm in love with Lutan. Have you lost your mind?"

Data cocked his head. "It was a legitimate question. You admitted that you are attracted to him."

"So? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say that you were jealous!"

"Lower your voice, Tasha," Data said with a hint of command. "You do know me, as well as one person may know another, in every sense of the word. You know that I am incapable of jealousy."

"But you _are _capable of feeling a sense of ownership. You can possess things. It's practically the same thing."

Data walked to her, until he was standing close enough to touch her. "Have I not possessed you?"

Tasha stared at him wide-eyed, struck dumb.

Data went on. "Have you not begged me to take you? I could replay the sound files from my memory record, if necessary. I have had you – are you not mine?"

Tasha opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out. The universe had suddenly shrunk down to just the two of them, alone in a room with a magnetic pull between them. She closed the distance, pulling his head down to hers.

The noise of the opening door surprised her. Tasha took an awkward step back, while Data let his hands fall back to his side.

Deanna entered, and looked from one to the other with pure confusion on her face. "Umm…I was…ah…looking for Geordi."

"The captain sent him to analyze the fighting arena," Data answered without a trace of embarrassment.

"Of course. Excuse me." Deanna rushed back out.

As soon as the door closed, they were in each other's arms again. Tasha pressed a long, closed-mouth kiss on Data's lips, holding his face between her hands. She bent her head back to look at him, and then kissed him again. She finally let go.

"I can't deny that I'm yours for the taking, as much as you're mine." She stroked his cheek and wiped her lipstick from his lips with her thumb. "But you don't own me. You have to let me be free."

"You should not go through with the challenge," Data said quietly.

"I must. But you have to believe that I'm doing it for the right reasons. Lutan wants to pretend that this is some kind of love triangle, but it's not. He's embroiled us in his own selfish quest for power, at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives."

"Inquiry: Love triangle?"

"It means a romantic situation where two people compete for the affections of one."

"Ah." Data thought for a moment. "I count at least six competing interests in this situation. It is not a love triangle. It is more like a love polyhedron."

Tasha laughed.

"That was not meant as a joke," Data added.

"Oh, Data. I've missed you." Tasha slid her arms around him and clasped her hands behind his back.

"I have missed you, too." He bent to kiss her again, his hands on the small of her back, pulling her close.

She broke their embrace and put her forehead to his lips. "Don't rile me up right now. I have to get into the zone."

He nodded, but did not let her go.

* * *

><p>Outside, Deanna had wandered close to the surrounding forest, trying to gather her thoughts. She had sensed anger coming from Tasha's room, followed by lust, and Deanna had rushed to help her friend. She had thought that she would find Lutan or someone else menacing Tasha, and had been shocked to find her alone.<p>

Well, not alone. Alone with Data. The fact of Data's existence often struck Deanna as whimsical. He was more of a curiosity to her than a person. When she looked at him, it was like looking at a picture – he was just an image of a human, a blank. In the short time that she'd known him, she was beginning to see that he might be something more, but she couldn't help but feel an undercurrent of amusement in reaction to almost everything he said or did.

What she had sensed from Tasha was anything but amusement. Waves of desire had been emanating from her, desire, and love. Their conversation from Tasha's second counseling session suddenly popped into Deanna's mind. Hadn't Tasha agreed that her infatuation with Data was misguided at best? Tasha had agreed to follow Deanna's advice to drop it, but had obviously not made good on that agreement.

Deanna continued to walk in the deepening twilight. There was no mistaking the nature of desire that she'd sensed. Tasha was generally easy to read; Deanna could sense only intense emotions, and Tasha was a passionate person. That passion had been directed at Data. Was it reciprocated? Was that even possible?

She shook her head in disbelief. Should she tell the captain? If their work were unaffected, it would be no more than idle gossip. Deanna had no desire to make Tasha the center of a rumor – it would be counterproductive to the self-confidence that they were both working so hard to build up. Deanna decided to keep quiet. If it became a problem for the ship, it would be her duty to speak to the captain. Whether or not she would speak to Tasha about it was a different question.

* * *

><p>The five officers stood in a loose circle in the captain's room. Picard was wrapping up his briefing cum pep talk. Tasha had tied a black band around her forehead, wisps of fair hair cascading over the edge. She felt the tingle of electricity plus the nervous stomach that came on before every athletic match or difficult away mission. She was hyperaware of her body. She could feel the currents of air in the room on her skin, the pliancy of her muscles, the breath flowing in and out of her lungs. She felt powerful and frightened all at once.<p>

"Mr. Data, retrieve Dr. Crusher's tricorder and beam back to the ship. Make it as unobtrusive as possible. Brief Riker and Crusher on the plan, and do it quickly. We may have only minutes now," Picard ordered.

"Aye, sir." Data looked Tasha in the eyes. "Good luck."

"Thank you," she replied.

He took a moment to memorize her. There was a slight probability that she would fail, that the antidote would not work, and that this was the last time he would see her alive. He wanted to place weight on the moment as more than just another instance that he could recall later with perfect clarity. He wanted to preserve the gravitas of the situation. To his human observers, Data paused for a second. To him, it was a long expanse of intentionally lived time.

* * *

><p>Will, Beverly, and Data stood staring at the empty pad in transporter room one, listening to constant updates from mission ops over the comm.<p>

"They've stopped moving. Two people are carrying away a third. Life signs from the third have faded.'

"How long did that take, Data?" Will asked.

"18 seconds and 11 milliseconds, sir." Data replied.

Beverly sucked air through her teeth. "My god."

Will looked at her. "Work fast when they materialize. Don't hesitate."

Beverly nodded.

The voice of the officer at mission ops came over the comm. "Combat has resumed. They're moving fast. No! Lt. Yar is down!"

Beverly took a step toward the transporter pad, her face suddenly drained of color.

"False alarm. She's up again. They're both moving fast. No! Interference – working on it – got the lock back. Still moving fast. Wait – Yareena is down, sir! Lt. Yar has stopped moving; that's the signal, sir!"

"Energize!" ordered Riker.

The prostrate bodies of Yareena and Tasha shimmered into being on the transporter pad.

_A/N: Words taken directly from Code of Honor written by Katheryn Powers and Michael Baron._


	27. Chapter 27

"Her life signs are faint and unstable," Beverly said, injecting Yareena again. The prone woman's eyelids were just barely fluttering.

"Oh, no. No, no," Tasha whimpered, wiping her neck and brow. She swiped the headband off of her forehead and balled it up in her hand.

'Get a hold of yourself, Lieutenant," Beverly said firmly, without being harsh. "She's coming around. You have to get off the pad now. And take those weapons with you. Carefully!" Beverly never took her eyes off of her patient, waving the tricorder probe over her prostrate body.

Tasha staggered to her feet in a daze. She was flooded with conflicting emotions: euphoria from her win, guilt over killing Yareena, and relief at being back under the bright lights of the Enterprise. Data and Will came forward to help her. Tasha gratefully took Will's hand, and didn't shy away when he enveloped her in a bear hug. The stress of the match suddenly overwhelmed her, and she started shaking.

"Hey, you're safe now." Will's deep voice was comforting. "You did good. It's out of your hands now."

Data watched them with interest, holding the glavins by their gauntlets at arm's length and cautiously standing apart.

Beverly addressed the transporter chief. "Beam us directly to sickbay, and stand by for site-to-site transport to the bridge lounge."

"Aye, sir."

"Got to stabilize her long enough for the antidote to work," the doctor murmured to herself. "Energize."

They disappeared from the pad. Will patted Tasha's back and let her go. "The captain'll be here soon."

"I know. I'm going to run to my quarters and freshen up," Tasha said, a tremor still present in her voice.

"You'll want this, Lieutenant." The transporter chief held up her hard-sided bag.

"Thanks, Chief." Tasha looked from Riker to Data.

"Get going!" Will said with a smile. She smiled faintly back and hurried out.

Will turned to Data. "Let's get those things to the lounge," he said, indicating the glavins. "Nasty-looking, aren't they?"

"Yes. Lt. Yar is extremely brave," Data replied.

"And, unless you're trying to set a record for consecutive hours spent on duty, I don't want to see you on gamma shift tonight."

"Sir?" Data looked confused.

"You heard me." Riker made as if to slap Data on the back, but caught himself, warily eyeing the glavins. "On second thought, let's beam you straight there. I don't think you should be strolling the halls with those."

"No, sir," agreed Data. He thought for a moment. "Is there a Starfleet record of that type?"

* * *

><p>Tasha reached her quarters and entered like a weary castaway making landfall. She touched the leaves of her plants as she passed them. The sight of her own modest cabin, with its mementos from shore leave and standard issue artwork, filled her with tranquility. She dropped her bag, stripped off her uniform, and made for the bathroom. A bit of blue on the nightstand caught her eye – Data's present. She'd never gotten a chance to wrap it. It seemed like ages ago – plenty of time for that soon, now that she was home. Tasha washed up quickly, and carefully but rapidly reapplied her makeup. She wanted to look perfect for the final interview with Lutan. A quick hop into the main room, a clean uniform, and she was ready. She walked out at high speed, eager to get her last laugh.<p>

* * *

><p>The servers in Ten-forward weren't quite keeping up with the senior officers, so several empty glasses festooned their table.<p>

"You should've seen her! Butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth," Beverly was saying, "and when Yareena asked her if she wanted Lutan, Tasha said, 'No, there would be _complications_.' Perfect!"

"Complications!" Deanna laughed. "That's rich. He did kidnap you and force you to participate in a death match. I'd call that a deal-breaker."

"I could barely keep a straight face," Tasha admitted. "But in the end, I couldn't go on needling him, even though I wanted to."

"I wish you all could've seen that match. I was on the edge of my seat," said Geordi. "And a spectator _died _during it, but no one batted an eyelash. Those were some stone-cold aliens." He snorted. "Maybe it was some guy that nobody liked."

"Geordi, that's terrible!" Deanna laughed.

"Yeah, like they were thinking, oh, that's just Lou. Nobody likes Lou," Geordi added.

Beverly took a drink and said dryly, "Do you think Hagon and Yareena will be happy together?"

"Those two jerks deserve each other," Tasha muttered. She drained her glass. "You all should've seen the look on Lutan's face. It almost made it worth it."

"In truth?" asked Data.

"No," Tasha replied, "The last three days were hell."

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Geordi asked, suddenly serious.

"No, not at all. But it was terrible to be so close to freedom but so far away. I missed you all so much." Tasha immediately felt embarrassed. Too much synthehol . . . "Okay, that's it for me. I'm getting all mushy."

Except for Data, the rest of the bridge crew was passing shrewd looks back and forth; no one had missed the significance of their hard-edged security chief momentarily dropping her shields. Data was taking in the whole scene with a look of wonder.

Riker grinned and waved to the server. "Another round over here!"

"Ah, come on!" Tasha protested.

"Hey, we're celebrating. And we have something big to celebrate." The server set down full glasses of synth ale. Riker raised his aloft. "To the safe return of our fearless Chief of Security, who risked her life to save millions of others," he said solemnly.

"Hear, hear!" He had said it loudly enough so that people at nearby tables were joining in on the toast.

"You're embarrassing me," Tasha said with a waver in her voice. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of one hand.

Deanna leaned over, put an arm around her, and planted a loud kiss on Tasha's cheek. "Because we love you," she said, her dark eyes misting with tears.

Geordi looked around the table and leaned forward. "Y'know, this reminds me of a time when I was posted to the Victory, and we were sent to Bilar III to investigate a breakdown in the weather generator. It should've been a routine mission, but it turned out to be anything but . . ."

Tasha gave Geordi a grateful smile. She felt less self-conscious once the attention had turned from her. It freed her to sit back and take in the warm feeling of being at home with her family of friends. She looked at each of them in turn, drawn inexorably, as usual, to Data's face. He returned her steady gaze, and she felt the other effect of the comfortable buzz she had going from the synthehol.

* * *

><p>Hours passed before the bridge crew ran out of stories to trade and the party finally broke up. As the six officers got up, Tasha stomped on Data's foot, almost hard enough to hurt her own. His answering look contained just enough collusion to reassure her that he would double back after going to his quarters. They all said goodnight in the turbolift and went their separate ways.<p>

Tasha reached her quarters and waited, pacing back and forth, beside herself with anticipation. The wait wasn't overlong. The door chime sounded, and she didn't bother to answer it aloud. Tasha went to the door and dragged Data inside, pouncing on him immediately.

She came up for air long enough to say, "Hi."

"Hi," Data replied, mimicking her tone. He bent his head to kiss her again.

The four-day hiatus, the synthehol, and the near-death experience were having an intense effect on Tasha. She felt like she could power a small city with the amount of heat she was generating. She had just enough willpower to break free. "I have something for you," she said, feeling suddenly shy. She stepped away and returned with the silver-wrapped package.

"This is a gift," Data stated.

"Yeah." She shoved it at him. "Open it."

Data obliged, and did not change expression as he meticulously untied the ribbon and unsealed the adhesive, revealing the navy blue pajamas that he had seen once before. He found himself unsure of how to proceed.

"What do you think?" asked Tasha nervously.

"Does this mean that you would like for me to stay with you tonight?" Data asked.

Tasha found herself disproportionately moved by Data's simple question. No gloating. No smugness. He didn't expect an apology at all. "One night a week. I think it's fair," she said, her voice subdued.

"Thank you for your consideration. I am sorry that I misjudged you," Data replied.

_He _was apologizing to _her_. Tasha wrapped her arms around him and laid a serious kiss on him, with direction and intent. Data dropped the pajamas and ran his fingers through the short hair behind her ears and at the nape of her neck. He brushed his lips against her closed eyes. "I missed you," he said quietly.

"You did? You told me that on the planet. How can that be?" Tasha murmured, pulling open his uniform.

"My neural pathways have become accustomed to your specific sensory input," Data explained, unfastening her uniform. "I not only missed you; I missed _this_."

"Me, too. I felt very lonely on Ligon II." She was trying to undress him, but found that her fingers were trembling. "I thought about you; I thought about us, and I thought how sad it would be, if the last thing between us was an argument."

He gently pushed her hands aside and took over, bending to remove his boots and socks and stepping out of his uniform. He turned his attention to hers. "I also considered that you might not survive. I was relieved to see that you had triumphed." He had deftly pulled off her boots and was peeling away the rest.

"I knew you were waiting for me. I had to win," she said, trying to laugh, but finding her breath catching in her throat. He unsnapped her bra with one hand. She gasped when he touched her bare skin, and she guided him, walking backwards, into her bedroom. "I want to go slow – I want to enjoy this, but I don't think I can wait." She ran her hands over him, reacquainting herself with the unique feeling of his skin.

"We can go slow the second time, if you like," Data offered.

"You know me so well." Tasha knelt on her bed and pulled him to her. He laid her down flat, and they were soon caught up in the primal dance, one urged on by instinct, emotion, and hormones, the other by sophisticated programming.

"Don't wait. It's gonna happen as soon as you . . . oh!" Tasha's eyes closed of their own accord. What had been lighthearted fun two weeks before now felt more meaningful. Her old understanding of sex, as something to fear or feel ashamed of, was being rewritten with this honest meeting – still a mystery, but one without any hidden agenda. She pressed her hands into his back, as if to bring him closer, as if she could take in his whole body and completely dissolve the two of them into one person feeling the same rhythm. Little cries rose from her in time with the rhythm. She didn't mind that Data was silent, as always; she knew that he wanted to be there with her, for no other reason but to share her hidden, essential self. The rhythm accelerated. She felt the waves of tension building up, twanging like an over-wound string, impossibly taut, and then the release like a detonation, her cries in a crescendo to the moment, and he'd timed his to coincide exactly. Perfect . . .

"Oh, god, Data, I love you!"

Like the tide going out, the waves of pleasure ebbed away, and silence settled over them. The hum of the ship's engine was suddenly loud in Tasha's ears. She held her breath. Data had not spoken. He separated from her and lay beside her. He seemed to be waiting.

"I didn't mean . . ." she began, and broke off. She couldn't outright lie to him. "Just forget I . . ." Impossible. Tasha turned on her side and propped her head up on her bent arm.

Data lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"That doesn't count," said Tasha, her voice shaky. "It was the heat of the moment. Just pillow talk."

Silence fell again. Now Tasha waited, her breathing shallow.

"Define 'pillow talk.'" Data's voice came out at a normal volume.

"It means . . ." she faltered, and tried again, barely audibly, "It means . . ."

"It never happened?" Data supplied, his voice bare of emotion.

"It means I'm not ready to say it, Data," Tasha finished. She reached over to him and touched his face. He didn't move or blink. "Maybe someday I will be, but not now. If I could take it back . . ." Her voice trailed off. She felt she was only making it worse. "Your friendship means – "

"More to you than any other relationship. I have not forgotten our agreement," Data said matter-of-factly.

She rolled to lay over him, holding him by his shoulders. "You might be ready to hear it, but I'm not ready to say it. It's not about you. Deanna said she loved me tonight, and I can't remember the last time someone said that to me, if ever." She dropped her head down on his chest and talked with her lips against his neck. "Truth is, I'm not sure what it even means. I need time to figure it out."

She felt his arms go around her back, and exhaled in relief.

"Maybe someday, you would say it and mean it? It would not just be 'pillow talk'?" Data asked, his voice quiet once more.

"Maybe someday." Tasha lifted her head, crossing her arms on his chest, and looked him in the eyes.

Data nodded. "I am prepared to wait."


	28. Chapter 28

Five – The Payback

The Enterprise had been in orbit around Styrus IV for three days. While the medical staff was working double shifts, the other officers found themselves with time on their hands. Will was restlessly circumnavigating the bridge. Tasha was leaning on the tactical console with her head down. Deanna had settled back in her chair, legs crossed, listening with amusement to Geordi and Data, at the conn and ops.

"You have to think bigger. We're going to be able to order whatever we want. We need more than just training programs; we should have the latest recreational holodeck programs at our disposal, too," said Geordi.

"I could order the whole catalog – storage capacity is not a concern," replied Data.

Geordi shook his head. "Too many choices. What we need is a good menu of programs. Humans feel paralyzed when faced with too many options."

Will came to a stop between their stations. "The holodeck upgrade is at least five weeks away. Why the big debate now?"

"The duty of choosing the holodeck programs that will be uploaded after the upgrade falls under operations," Data explained, "but I find myself somewhat inadequate to the task. The catalog of new programs is vast. I was seeking Lt. La Forge's advice, but perhaps a ship-wide poll is needed."

"That's not a bad idea," Deanna said. "We could also request demo versions of the most popular programs and try them out before making final decisions."

"Even better," agreed Geordi. "Or we could have a contest for the developers."

"Why not? The Federation flagship ought to have the best holodecks," Will added.

"Those are all excellent suggestions," said Data. "I will send out a ship-wide bulletin immediately."

"I don't see what the big deal is. The training programs are a lot of fun. How much more do we really need?" asked Tasha.

"Uh, not everybody on board lives to work, Lieutenant," Geordi said. "Some of us like to have _real_ fun."

"I resent that, Geordi – I have plenty of fun," Tasha countered.

"You work; you work out. Repeat ad infinitum," he teased.

"Pssh – I have plenty of fun," Tasha grumbled. "And if Worf were here, he'd agree with me."

"When's he due back, anyway?" Geordi asked.

"1700 hours."

"Just in time for dinner."

"Speaking of which - " Will circled up to tactical. "I believe I have a bet to make good."

"Oh, yeah?" Tasha raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. How about tomorrow night: one dinner made from scratch?" Will asked.

"You're on." Tasha paused. "Wait, did you get the food from Styrus IV? Am I going to wind up with Anchilles fever?"

"Very funny. Yes, and no."

"Hmmm." Tasha looked skeptical.

"What's on the menu?" Deanna asked.

"That's a surprise. All I can say is, it will be memorable," Will answered.

"Watch out, Tasha," Geordi said. "That sounds pretty ambiguous to me." A thought occurred to him. "Hey, don't you owe me an Aikido lesson?"

"I sure do. Anytime you're ready –"

"Day after tomorrow. Unless you're in sickbay with food poisoning."

"You're just jealous, Geordi – admit it," Will laughed.

The ready room door opened, and Captain Picard emerged and sat down in his chair. The crew on the bridge straightened up at their stations. "Status report, Mr. Data."

"Relief efforts continue, sir. CMO Crusher estimates that the final transfer of supplies from the Excalibur will fully meet the planet's needs."

"Good. When did they leave the Ligonian system?"

"2300 yesterday, sir. They are due to arrive within two hours."

Will circled back around to sit beside Picard. There was silence on the bridge. Picard looked around at the crew and back at the first officer. "Should I go back to my ready room, Number One? I feel as though I've interrupted something."

Will grinned. "Not at all, sir. Just idle chatter."

Picard addressed the crew. "Don't stop on my account."

"We can't help it, sir," Deanna replied. "We're all still trying to impress you."

* * *

><p>Tasha stood beside the control console in shuttle bay two, watching the approach of shuttlepod Voltaire. The small craft docked, and Tasha walked over to greet the pilot as he emerged. "Welcome home, Worf! How was the flight?"<p>

"Cramped." He took her extended hand. "You didn't have to come greet me."

"I wanted to get to you before anyone else had a chance." A knowing look in his dark eyes stopped her. "Oh, no. You read the reports already?"

"I am glad to see that you are safe and well."

"Damn! You were supposed to be on vacation. Can't you ever stop working? I wanted to tell you myself," Tasha complained.

"There is only so much family vacation time I can tolerate before my thoughts turn to more important matters," Worf replied.

"I thought family was everything to Klingons. Hurry up and drop off your stuff – I have something for you." They walked out of the shuttle bay together.

"I regret the timing of my leave. I would have been more useful here on the ship," Worf continued. "Perhaps I could have prevented your abduction."

"Impossible. It took us all by surprise."

They reached the turbolift and stepped in. "Deck two," Worf ordered.

"How's your family?" Tasha asked.

"Very well, thank you."

"Was your brother there?"

"Yes." Worf shared a look with Tasha.

"Has he changed much?" she asked.

"Despite his doctoral studies, Nicholai remains much the same as he was when we were boys together." The doors opened on deck two, and they stepped out. "We stopped just short of quarrelling during my visit. It pains my mother to see us fight."

"Your mother was always so nice. I hope she cooked for you," Tasha replied.

"Of course." They arrived at Worf's quarters and entered.

"You have to find my gift," Tasha said slyly. "I broke in here and left it while you were gone."

Worf glowered at her.

"Being Security Chief has its privileges. Don't worry – I didn't touch anything."

Worf looked around his main room and had his sights on the new object in seconds. It was on a table with a display of Klingon weapons. He approached and picked it up by the gauntlet.

"It's called a glavin. I kept one after the fight. What do you think?" asked Tasha with excitement.

Worf examined it, turning it over in his hands. He tried to insert his hand in the opening, but it was too narrow.

"It's made for a woman to use. We eradicated the poison and then I bronzed it in the lab. I wanted you to have it," Tasha wound up.

Worf nodded. "It is an excellent gift. Thank you, Lt. Yar."

"You're welcome. And I don't care if you read the reports; I'm still going to tell you all about it." They moved to sit down on two black leather chairs. "First of all, I tried to take out the guards when they kidnapped me..."

Worf listened to Tasha's story with interest, pleased to be back among like-minded people.

* * *

><p>By the time they got to Ten-forward for dinner, Tasha still hadn't finished her story. She had jumped around non-sequentially, telling Worf different events as she thought of them.<p>

"Wait, which one is Hagon?" Worf asked, taking a seat beside her. Will, Deanna, Geordi, and Data were already seated.

"Hagon is the secondary who was in love with the first wife all along, or something," Tasha replied.

"Hagon's the one Tasha threw in the cargo bay," Will added.

"I was telling him about the challenge," Tasha explained. "So, yeah, then Hagon says to Yareena, 'No one has challenged the right of –"

"Which one is Yareena?"

"Worf! It's not hard. Lutan was the delegate –" Tasha began.

"He's the one who said, 'This is not an act of war, but of LOVE!'" Deanna imitated his deep voice to the delight of the others.

"You did not mention that to me," Data said to Tasha.

"Because it wasn't an important detail, Data," Tasha replied, enunciating each word and staring daggers across the table at him.

"What I don't understand is, how did the captain become convinced to accept the challenge?" asked Worf.

"None of us can answer that," replied Will.

"I don't agree; it was the only choice," Deanna put in.

"Aren't you sorry you missed the excitement?" Geordi asked.

"Of course," Worf replied.

Tasha and Data appeared to be attempting to converse using facial expressions alone. Deanna looked from one to the other and kept her own counsel.

* * *

><p>"It's such a huge difference, even though we've only been underway for another month." Tasha was sitting in Deanna's office the next day, one leg folded under her on the sectional couch, holding a cup of coffee in both hands. "I feel like I have my feet firmly under me. I don't feel so scared about saying or doing the wrong thing with my security teams anymore. I know they'll forgive me if I mess up, and that they don't expect me to be perfect." She took a sip from her cup. "Some of them, the youngest ones especially, seem to look up to me, Troi." She watched the counselor's face for signs of disbelief. Deanna nodded encouragement. "I still feel like I have a lot to prove, to live up to the captain's expectations, but I'm not so . . . panicked about it now."<p>

"I'm proud of you, Tasha. And you have every reason to be proud of yourself. Your past does not define you. Your future contains infinite possibilities. Success can be as frightening as failure – you are brave to embrace the possibility of being a success," Deanna said with warmth.

"That's it exactly. I can rush headlong into feeling good about myself, the way I do anything else," Tasha agreed.

Deanna smoothed the trousers of her one-piece suit. "How are your relationships with your fellow officers?" she asked.

Tasha steeled herself, sitting up straight and consciously clearing her mind. "Fine. Good. I feel like we're becoming friends, the bridge crew. It feels to me like a family. I can't believe we met, most of us, only three months ago."

Deanna nodded. "And the issue you brought to our last session? About Cdr. Data?"

Tasha felt an involuntary jolt at his name. She gave Deanna a guileless smile. "It's not an issue anymore."

The two women locked eyes. Deanna could feel that Tasha had closed off her mind. She contemplated how far she was willing to push it. "You decided not to pursue an intimate relationship?"

"We decided to remain friends," Tasha answered.

They had entered a staring match. "Just friends?" Deanna asked.

"It's casual. Nothing to worry about." Tasha had a tight clamp on her temper.

"Casual sex?" Deanna pushed a little harder.

Tasha broke eye contact first, shaking her head, her lower jaw out. "Are you asking as my counselor?"

"I am. You've said yourself that you still struggle with your sexual identity, and that meaningless sex undermined your self-confidence in the –"

"I didn't say it was meaningless, Troi!" Tasha felt her blood pressure rise. She was suddenly trembling in the effort to stay seated. "I said it wasn't an issue." She exhaled through clenched teeth. "Damn it, it's _Data._ It's not some random crewman." She stopped, fought for control. "Do you think I'm using him?"

"I didn't say that -" Deanna began.

"I have the utmost respect for him. He's my CO. What do you think I'm capable of?"

"_You _said it was casual -"

"We're both adults. We're perfectly able to make decisions about what we do on our own time without interference from anybody else." Tasha spat out the words in a rush.

"I'm not questioning that. I'm asking if this relationship is a step backwards for you," Deanna said evenly.

"No! Why should it be? Am I supposed to be celibate for the rest of my life, just because I was victimized twelve years ago? You just said that my past doesn't define me."

"You're jumping to conclusions. I want you to consider the ramifications of a casual, sexual relationship with someone incapable of feeling emotions."

There was a crash and a splatter as Tasha's coffee cup hit the far wall and shattered. She was on her feet. "Maybe I feel enough for the both of us! D'you think he doesn't deserve love, just because he can't feel it? He's dying to feel anything! He'd do anything to be human."

"But he's not human," Deanna replied.

"Neither are you! Does that make you any less worthy of love?"

"Do you love him?" Deanna had maintained her passivity, and the question had come out quietly.

Tasha let her fists uncurl and stood still, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. She shook her head and sat down. "I can't say. I honestly don't know. How do you learn what that even means?"

"Data won't be able to help you answer that question," Deanna said, her voice as calm as ever.

"No," Tasha agreed, "And I don't need him to. We have a lot in common, not the least of which is . . . emotional issues." She wiped her mouth and forehead. "I'm sorry I yelled, Troi. I'm sorry I - " she looked guiltily at the fragments of porcelain and the dark splotch on the wall. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Deanna reached out both hands. Tasha let her enfold one perspiring hand in her cool, manicured ones. "I'm sorry that I upset you."

"You should know that I tried to take your advice," Tasha said, her voice quieter. "But I couldn't stop myself from wanting him, any more than you can stop a star from giving off light. I don't know what it is about him, but I can't resist what's between us. I'm just going with it, to see where it leads."

"Are you happy?" Deanna's dark eyes searched Tasha's blue ones. Tasha squeezed her hands and nodded. "That's all that really matters, isn't it? As long as you have your eyes open, I won't caution you further." Deanna released Tasha's hands. "I'd appreciate it if you'd feel free to talk about it in our sessions, but I won't force you to."

"Thanks, Troi. We're keeping it very quiet, and I promised Data that I wouldn't talk to anyone about it, not even you. I'd like to keep my word from here on out."

"Fine. Do what you have to do." Deanna stood, and held out her hand to Tasha. She got to her feet. "We'll meet in four weeks' time. And if you ask me for a drink next time, I'm just going to say no."

They held each other's eyes for a moment, and then both of them burst into laughter, perhaps more than was warranted by the comment.


	29. Chapter 29

Data and Geordi were working at an open panel, the cover on the floor beside them. Geordi shone a palm beacon into the access port. "The deviation is within acceptable limits, but I think we can reduce the manual override range."

Data was examining the exposed pallet. "This group of navigational sensors is not due for swapout for forty-five days. We could perform the modifications and run tests with enough time to systemize the changes for the new equipment." He straightened up. "Geordi, you have a talent for understanding machinery that I have never encountered among humans. Have you ever considered leaving the command track to pursue a career in engineering?"

Geordi helped to replace the pallet and reattach the cover. "Funny you should ask that – I never questioned my career path until I came onboard the Enterprise. I always assumed I would follow in my mother's footsteps. But I feel comfortable around machines. And maybe the VISOR gives me an edge, but I've noticed that I see things in machines that other people don't, too." He snapped off the palm beacon and put a hand on Data's shoulder. "Maybe that's why we get along so well." Data grunted in agreement. "Hey, how's the poll coming along? I'm already hearing buzz about it," Geordi went on.

"Yes – the announcement has engendered substantial interest on the ship," Data replied. "There is now considerable feedback about the recreational holodeck programs to draw upon, especially from the civilians. Even the captain has responded, with a vote for a program based on a 20th century detective series."

"You'll have to put that on the list. Can't disappoint the captain." Geordi dusted off his hands, and they walked together down the hall. "Are there any early frontrunners?"

"Each cohort has its own favorites. The children show interest in action games. There are a number of requests from the adults for settings based on Earth events in history, and also for a variety of pornographic scenarios."

Geordi laughed. "Well, that's recreational, too."

Data looked at him blankly. "Interesting to note: there appears to be a pool on the poll."

"Hmm. I suppose that's inevitable."

"Yes. Humans seem to take great delight in making wagers. For example, yesterday, you reminded Lt. Yar of the wager you won over one month ago."

"You don't mind, do you? It wasn't meant as an insult. And when we get to Haven you'll know that you don't need to wear a uniform on the planet, right?" Geordi elbowed Data.

"Assuredly. My question is, how is an Aikido lesson with Lt. Yar a prize?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought it would be nice to spend some time alone with her doing something she likes."

Data considered, cocking his head. "Lt. Yar is an accomplished athlete. It is doubtful that she will treat the lesson lightly. She has a reputation for being quite strict during security training." They reached the turbolift and stepped inside. "Deck two. I am curious: what would the prize have been if she had won?"

"I don't remember; it's too long ago." Geordi looked thoughtful, almost worried.

"How unfortunate. I hope it turns out to be a worthwhile prize, my friend," Data said.

"Yeah, me too," Geordi answered uncertainly.

* * *

><p>Will was putting on finishing touches, bustling around his dining room, humming along to the music playing over the speakers. He'd chosen some with melody – he thought that bebop might not set the right tone. He was dressed casually in a deep blue tunic and dark grey trousers, with brown slippers on his feet. On one end of the black translucent dining table, two elaborate place settings were laid out, with a flowering plant and a carafe of red wine between them. At the other end, a jury-rigged gas burner flamed below a repurposed wire grill, with a full pot boiling and frothing on top. Will thrust two heat-resistant mitts on his hands and picked up the pot, carried it to his sink, and drained it, using the lid as a stopper. The door chime sounded. "Come on in!" he called, and then, with the music, "Hey, hey, woo!"<p>

Tasha entered, her hands in her pockets. "Smells good in here." She was wearing a white wrap top and baggy silver trousers, with slip-on shoes in gold and silver jacquard.

"Wait'll you taste what smells so good," Will replied. He had moved on to swirling oil in a skillet over the grill. He tipped the pot into it, and the contents hit the oil with a sizzle.

"What _is_ that thing?" Tasha asked, eyeing the open flame.

"My stove, courtesy of the ingenious Misters La Forge and Data." He adjusted the flickering blue flames.

"Did you disengage the fire suppressant in here?" Tasha asked.

"Mm-hm."

"Great_._" She crossed to the far end of the dining table.

"Are you going to report me?" Will was busy with a spatula.

"I oughtta." She watched him work for a minute. "What are those?"

"Ravioli. An Earth dish – a savory filling in a pocket of dough."

"Huh. What's inside?"

"You'll see – it's the second course."

"There're courses?" Tasha looked down at her clothes. "Sounds fancy. Maybe I should've dressed up."

Will winked at her. "You look great. Have a seat." He pulled out a chair with one hand, spatula in the other.

Tasha sat at the table, but something else caught her eye. "What is _that_?" She pointed at a gray box with rounded sides.

Will grinned. "That's my refrigerator."

Tasha gasped. "Did you get that from the morgue?"

"I sanitized it. We're perfectly safe."

Tasha shook her head. "You sure went to a lot of trouble."

Will shrugged. He came over to the end of the table and poured two glasses of wine. He swirled his, two fingers on the stem. Tasha watched with interest. He raised his glass, and she joined him in a first sip, feeling the liquid burn its way down her throat.

"Whoa. This is the real thing, isn't it?"

"I told you – a real food meal. Nothing replicated." Will took another sip.

"I work alpha shift tomorrow!" Tasha protested.

"Bad planning." Will turned off the flame and went to the refrigerator box.

"I better not see a severed head inside," Tasha warned.

He smiled and brought out two bowls of reddish soup, setting them down and taking his seat.

"What's this?"

"Gazpacho. Chilled vegetable soup." Will could barely contain his self-satisfaction.

"Cold soup – I've never had cold soup." Tasha took up her spoon and tasted it. "Mmm – good." Another spoonful. "Really good." She set to work, not pausing between spoonfuls, as Will watched with growing amusement. She picked up the bowl and upended it, and then put it down empty. She gave it an intent look, as if she meant to scrape out the remainder with her fingers.

Will couldn't hold back a moment longer – he burst into laughter. "That took me seven hours to make! You just ate it in 30 seconds!"

Tasha couldn't feel offended: he was laughing so hard that he started to cough. She started to laugh, too, despite her embarrassment. "Hey, if you wanted a proper dinner guest, you should've invited Troi." She stuck one pinky finger into the bowl and put it in her mouth. "Seven hours?"

Will had recovered his composure. "Well, yeah, I had to pick out the ingredients, and then make a vegetable stock, chop the tomatoes and onions and garlic, squeeze the limes, puree it all, and then I had to refrigerate it for hours."

"That's amazing! I had no idea." Tasha looked guilty.

"Do you want mine?" Will asked with a glint in his eye.

"No." Tasha picked up her fork and held it in her fist. "What else ya got?"

* * *

><p>"Are you ready for the crown jewel of the night?" Will was poised to open the little refrigerator box.<p>

"You can't be serious. I'm stuffed!" Tasha drank her last sip of wine.

"It'll be worth it." He pulled out a dish and presented it with a bow. "Cheesecake with fresh berries and caramel sauce."

"I'm speechless." Tasha watched him slice and serve it at the table. "Looks beautiful."

"Wait'll you try it." Will sat down and watched her with anticipation.

Tasha took a forkful of the dessert, stabbing a single pink berry on the tines. She closed her lips on the fork and then closed her eyes. Will rubbed his hands together with glee.

"Riker, that is the most incredible, best-tasting, unbelievable thing I've ever eaten," Tasha gushed. She tried another bite. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's better than replicated food. I never understood how anyone could tell the difference, but now I get it."

"It's because the replicator makes a dish the same way every time, and it's always homogenous. Real food depends on the ingredients, chemical reactions, the temperature, humidity, all kinds of factors go into the taste and texture," Will said with pride.

"This was the best meal of my whole life, Riker. I can't thank you enough. I don't deserve it." Tasha was smiling ear to ear.

"You won it, fair and square." He scooped up a berry and twirled it in the caramel on his saucer. "Has anyone ever cooked for you before?"

"Not that I can remember. We exclusively used replicators on the colony, and I've eaten institutional food since then."

"So I'm the first?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. I like being first. And best." Will rubbed his chin with one hand. "The only thing I couldn't get was real coffee. That would've made it perfect." He got up and opened a cabinet beneath the replicator. "But I do have this." Will pulled out a squat bottle of green liquid.

"What's this?"

"Aldebaran whisky."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. Wanna put in for a shift swap now?" Will pulled out the stopper.

* * *

><p>Tasha lolled face up on the couch in the main room, her feet up over the arm, one shoe suspended precariously from her big toe. She balanced a half-full glass on her flat belly, holding it steady with a finger and thumb. Will was stretched out facedown on the floor, his chin propped up on his folded arms. Occasionally, he would interrupt his story, execute a one-armed pushup and take a drink at the apex, which elicited a giggle from Tasha every time.<p>

"So there we are, reeking of Denebian sludge, and the Orion slave is covered from head to toe in a hooded cape, but it doesn't matter. Every guy in the joint is turning to look at her. So, Rice pulls the hood down over her face, and two guys, real tough-looking, jump off their barstools and say, 'Hey, you're suffocating the lady!' And at that point, we've got five minutes to make it to the rendezvous before the alarms get reactivated. But even though she's covered up like a monk, the three of us are sweating like she's a Deltan."

"Aw, c'mon. I don't believe those stories about Orion animal women. As if you need special pheromones to get a humanoid male all hot and bothered – all you have to do is say 'hello'." Tasha's words were noticeably slurred.

"It's true! You can't make this up. So, now the bouncers have a whiff that something's up, and they're starting to close in. And the rest of the men in the bar are on the verge of starting a riot, if we don't leave the girl behind. And the women in the bar are ready to riot if we don't get her out. And in the midst of this madness, she pulls out a knife from who knows where and turns on us!"

"No way!"

"Yeah! So I knock it out of her hand, throw her over my shoulder, and we run outta there like the devil's on our tails. We made it to the rendezvous with a minute to spare. And when we get back to the ship, she's all of a sudden grateful!" Will laughed. "She showed me her gratitude three times that night."

"Now, I've got a question – what was the Orion woman's name?" Tasha asked.

"I don't remember."

"Typical." Tasha sat up halfway, took a drink, and put out one hand. "Commander, your room is spinning." She lay back down and tried to find the balance point of the glass on her belly again.

"Typical what? Don't give me that humanoid male crap. Like you can remember the name of everyone you've ever slept with." He said it and immediately regretted it.

"No, I can't." Tasha put her glass down on the floor. "I can't even tell you the number." She turned over on the couch and lay face down, in view of Will's feet.

He sat up on the floor and moved over to lean against the couch close to her head. "If it makes you feel any better, neither can I. I had my own misspent youth."

"It didn't stop you from nearly making captain in seven years."

"Hmm. Aren't you going to ask me why I turned down the Drake?"

"No. Does everyone ask that?"

"Just about."

Tasha laid one cheek on her arms. "No, I understand. Happy with your decision?"

Will picked up his glass and drank off the shot. "Maybe happy's not the right word. I'm satisfied that I made the right choice."

"D'you have any regrets?"

"Sure. Who doesn't? You?"

"Well, I'm happy here." Tasha was biting her lip to keep from asking him about Deanna.

Will reached one leg up and pushed her with his foot. "Spill it, Yar."

"Nah. I don't wanna pry."

"Whatever. I'm far enough gone. Just say it." He picked up her glass, knocked back the contents and lurched to his feet. He refilled both glasses from the decanter. "I'm sure everyone on the ship is thinking the same thing: What kind of fool dumps _her_?"

"Hey, you said it, not me."

"It was the only choice I could make under the circumstances. I'd just completed a dangerous mission and received a promotion to Lieutenant Commander. I couldn't turn it down." He put the stopper back in the bottle. "If I had to do it all again, I know I wouldn't change a thing."

Tasha nodded, her forehead against her arms. "What about now?"

Will sat back down on the floor. "She wants to be friends. Just friends."

"She's right, you know. It's less complicated that way."

Will gave her a pointed look, but she still lay facedown. "You gonna drink this, Yar?"

"No more for me. I should probably get some sleep – I'm going to be dead tomorrow as it is." She raised her head. "I gotta tell you – I like synthehol better. There's a reason it exists." She dropped her head back down.

"Want me to walk you back?"

"Not a bad idea, 'specially since your room is spinning faster than the ship," she said, her voice muffled by the sofa cushion.

"I'm just going to hit the head." He pushed himself up from the floor and walked away. When he returned a few minutes later, a muted sound caught his ear.

"Computer, stop music."

The sound became more audible: Tasha was snoring.

"Hey, don't drool on my sofa," Will said softly. There was no interruption in the somnolent sound. "Okay, Yar. Just don't smack me." He crouched down and put his arm around her waist, the other hand on the crook behind her knees. He slowly straightened into a fireman's carry, her fanny by his ear. "You're going to be pissed tomorrow if anyone sees us." He walked her out the door and through the empty corridors, the lights low for night watch. "You're heavier than you look, you know." He reached her quarters and the doors opened. He headed straight for the bedroom and unfolded her limp form on top of the blanket. He straightened and brought his shoulder blades together with a crack. He pulled off her shoes and dropped them on the floor. Tasha curled up on her side, and he half-expected her to put her thumb in her mouth. Will bent down, pushed her blond bangs out of the way, and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

Tasha smiled and mumbled, "G'night, Data."

Will smiled back. "Computer: lights off." He padded silently out of the room.


	30. Chapter 30

Someone was pounding on Tasha's head with something heavy and flat. She batted her hands at it, but it was relentless. The pounding was aimed precisely at her temples. The unseen tormentor began to shake her, and was shining a bright light in her eyes.

"Augh!" She awoke with a start. She shut off her alarm and leapt out of bed. She got inside the bathroom just in time. "Oh, god." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tried to get her bearings. Still in the clothes she wore the night before, she couldn't remember how she'd gotten to her own quarters. Another violent upheaval took hold. "Yecch. Yar to sickbay: Medical assistance requested in my quarters."

"Acknowledged."

Tasha winced when she heard the voice of the doctor on duty. She splashed cold water on her face and into her mouth. In a few minutes, the door chime sounded. "Come in, Doctor."

Doctor Selar stood a head taller than Tasha in her bathroom mirror. She opened her tricorder and passed the probe around Tasha's hunched-over body. She checked the results on the tricorder and put the probe away. "Really, Lieutenant," Selar said dryly.

"Please don't lecture me, Doc. I feel bad enough as it is."

The Vulcan opened her med kit and prepared a hypospray. "You do realize that alcohol is a poison, don't you?"

"Blame the first officer. He wanted a drinking buddy last night."

"Did he hold your nose and pour it down your throat?" Selar injected Tasha's abdomen. "This is a combination of enzymes that will help your alimentary system break down the remaining irritants. You should feel better in an hour, two at most. Drink plenty of water. Avoid diuretics – no coffee or tea today." She closed her med kit. "And do yourself a favor; stick to synthehol."

"Yes, Doctor."

Selar nodded and left.

* * *

><p>As usual, the turbolift car made several stops and was soon filled with the officers on morning bridge duty. Tasha greeted them with nods, grimacing when she moved her head and shading her eyes from the pulsing lights with one hand. The car stopped on deck two, and Geordi and Worf got on.<p>

"Morning, Yar," Geordi said cheerfully.

"S'no need to shout," Tasha grumbled.

Worf gave her a once-over. The doors opened on the bridge, and the car emptied out. The overnight crew got on. Data sat in the captain's chair and acknowledged the shift change. Worf paused at tactical before taking his station. "Are you ill?"

Tasha steadied herself with one hand on the console. "Hungover."

He gave her a disparaging look. She raised a warning finger. "I remember all of the Klingon curses you taught me, so not one word." He turned away and took a seat at mission ops. Tasha started on the security reports.

"Are we still on for tonight, Tasha?" Geordi piped up from the helm.

She muttered something indistinct. Geordi turned to look at her. "What was that?"

"I said, 'yes'," Tasha lied.

"We can reschedule, if you want," he replied.

"No. The doctor said I'd feel fine in another hour at the most."

"Are you feeling unwell?" Data asked.

Tasha stifled several sarcastic retorts. "I'm fine. A little peace and quiet, and I'll be swell."

Geordi and Data shared a look before facing forward again.

* * *

><p>Geordi was surprised at his own nervousness as he waited in the corridor outside holodeck three. He worked with Tasha every day, had worked with her that morning, and wondered why this should feel any different. The answer was obvious – he had never been alone with her before, and he was praying that he wouldn't come off like a jackass.<p>

She came around the corner, dressed in a white gi with a black headband holding back her bangs. "Hey, Geordi."

"Hey. I hope you're in a better mood now."

"Much. If it weren't a court-martial offense to strike a superior officer, Cdr. Riker would be feeling much worse." She touched the keypad. "Run Aikido dojo."

"Is my uniform okay for this?" Geordi asked.

"It's fine. The holodeck will provide a gi for you," Tasha answered.

"Program complete. You may enter when ready," the computer announced.

The doors opened noisily upon a room lit with soft sunlight filtered through bamboo and rice paper walls and laid with white mats. Tasha took off her shoes and bowed when they entered. Geordi watched her and did the same. He looked around wonderingly. "It's beautiful, Tasha. I wasn't expecting something so peaceful." He walked to a hanging scroll. "What does this mean?"

"It's the kangi for Aikido – three words meaning harmony, life force, and way. They're ancient Japanese characters. Aikido is a martial art, but it's used purely for defense - the path of love and spirit."

Geordi was looking at several wooden staffs hung on a rack. "Looks pretty aggressive to me."

Tasha walked around, taking in the sights: curly green bamboo in a stand, a framed picture of the O-Sensai. "I recreated the dojo I belonged to in California. An officer on the Galahad first introduced me to it – he thought it would help me learn discipline. It was perfect for me. It gave me a new community to belong to after I was rescued. And he was right – it saved my life."

"How so?"

"Aikido is not just a martial art. It's a philosophy, a way of approaching life. It's based on the principles of Tao: yin and yang, outreaching energy and receiving energy, attack and defense, toughness and flexibility. It gave me something to do every day besides school, and it gave me a physical outlet. It's not about hurting anyone. In physical terms, the idea is to circle the energy from the attacker and redirect it away. But there are mental and spiritual aspects as well." She stopped. "Am I making sense?"

"That's fascinating, Tasha," Geordi said.

Tasha looked shy. "I don't explain it very well. Shall we just start? Computer: provide a gi for Lt. La Forge."

A loose, white wraparound jacket and trousers appeared on a low bench. Geordi looked disconcerted.

"Don't worry. They'll fit over your uniform," Tasha assured him.

He stepped into the trousers and wrapped the jacket around himself, tying the sash. "I'm ready."

"Good. First, we warm up."

* * *

><p>"The most important lesson for a beginner to learn is to fall correctly." Tasha was glowing from their exertions.<p>

Geordi was breathing hard. "I know how to fall, Lieutenant. I've gone through Starfleet defensive training, you know."

"This is different. There are specific forms that you have to follow, or you can be seriously hurt. Computer: run hip throw demonstration."

Two masters appeared, dressed in gi with wide, pleated, black trousers on top of the white ones. Geordi watched as one kneeled down and gracefully threw the other to the mat. They vanished.

"Okay . . ."

"I'll teach you one basic throw, but I don't want you to get hurt. We can slow the demo down and try it step-by-step after you learn to roll, okay?" Tasha promised.

Geordi nodded. Data was right – he had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

An hour later, Tasha was convinced that they could move on. "Are you ready to learn the throw?"

"I'm ready to hit the showers! How long do _you _do this?" Geordi grabbed a towel and mopped his forehead and neck.

"Two hours every morning. Not today, but usually."

"Damn. Can we take a break?"

"Sure." Tasha sat down on the mat in half-lotus. Geordi dropped beside her and rubbed his arms and legs.

"You're going to be sore tomorrow, but don't go to sickbay," Tasha counseled.

"Why not?'

"You won't build your muscle strength as efficiently if you alter the healing process. You'll get stronger if you let it happen naturally."

"Hey, I put in my time at the gym." Geordi flexed his biceps. "Check out these torpedoes."

Tasha let that pass. "Aikido doesn't give you big muscles. It makes you supple and strong. It works on your mind, too – you have to be fearless during practice, yet calm."

"I never knew." Geordi ran the towel over his face again. He removed his visor and dried the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. Tasha looked away, but then looked back at his milk-white eyes.

"Geordi, what do you see when you look at me?" she asked, and then, "Forget it. It's a stupid question."

"No, not at all." He replaced the visor with an audible click. "I see what you see on the light spectrum, plus a lot of other information. Sometimes it's difficult to make out your features because of the complexity of the input signal, but I always know where your face is."

"What was it like to go from blindness to enhanced sight?"

"It was so long ago. I was only five. I went from experiencing my world mostly through touch and sound, to being able to detect the electromagnetic energy that my mother gave off. I remember having a long adjustment period. By the time I reached adolescence, I was adept at interpreting the signal."

Tasha looked introspective. "When you were five, your world opened up. When I was five, my world fell apart."

Geordi put a hand on her knee. "If you don't mind me asking, what was it like?"

Tasha thought a long time before answering. "I do mind. I'm sorry. I don't like to think about my life on the colony. It wasn't a childhood – it was chaos and fear. I was lucky to escape with my life."

"I'm sorry to bring it up."

"No, it's okay. I started it." Tasha stretched out her legs and Geordi let go of her knee. She folded into a forward bend and then slowly rose to sit up straight. "I don't have to tell you how hard it is for me to trust people. I know it shows."

"Do you trust me?" Geordi asked.

Tasha forced a laugh. "I don't know."

"Could I ask you something?" His voice came out deeper than he expected.

Tasha felt a frisson of nerves. "What?"

"Would you let me look at you the way I would've before the visor?"

Tasha felt relieved. "Sure."

"You're sure?" Geordi asked.

She laughed, a real one. "Sure, I'm sure."

He took off his visor again and placed it beside him with care. "Just relax."

He put his fingertips on her cheeks first, spreading his fingers as if to measure the width of her face. She took off her headband. He traced her hairline and her eyebrows, and felt the length of her lashes. Tasha was experiencing a variety of feelings in quick succession: it felt strange, yet unthreatening, friendly, yet intimate. Geordi touched the hollows under her eyes and the high arch of her cheekbones. He traced her square jaw, and when he reached her ears and explored them with a light touch, she felt an unexpected response zing down her middle. His fingers covered the flat plane of her cheek again, and she smiled at her own embarrassment and stimulation. His fingers pressed into her dimples. He held her small chin, and put one hand on her lips. She parted them, and he explored the whole of the surface, and touched her front teeth. There was no mistaking the chemistry now. He touched the dip below her nose, the curve of her nostrils, and followed the straight bridge up to her brow. He passed his hand over the longer hair on the crown of her head, felt the part in the side, and rubbed both hands over the short hair below. He stroked the back of her neck. She stifled a gasp and shifted where she sat. He brought his fingers to her throat and let her go.

They were both stirred, and they sat silently for a few seconds. Finally, Geordi quietly said, "Thank you," and reached for his visor.

Tasha stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Wait." She didn't feel ready to share as much information as the visor could read. She held his wrist a second longer than she meant to. "I hardly get to see your face, either. The visor covers up a lot." She'd never really given a second thought to how attractive he was – he had long, curly eyelashes, and beautiful, well-defined lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him; the thought of it sped up her heartbeat. She knew he wouldn't stop her if she tried. With one simple gesture, she could satisfy her curiosity. And destroy three people's relationships. She shook her head and got a hold of herself. "Shall we get back to it?" She got to her feet.

Geordi replaced his visor with a click. He cleared his throat, adjusted the wide trousers, and stood up as well. "Sure."

"Okay. You're going to throw me when we're done, and I'll show you how. Kneel up on the mat. Bring one knee up." They had spent over an hour doing physical work together, but now the tenor was different. She was shoulder-to-shoulder facing him, and as she moved his legs into the correct position, the contact, which had been coolly teacher-student before, was now quickening her breath. She adjusted his shoulders and back, and she could see from his face that he was affected, too. She realized what was next and swallowed hard. "Put your right arm out." She put her right arm under his elbow. "You're going to grab me here," she pulled his right arm under her breasts with her left hand, folding his hand under her left armpit. "And spin me headfirst right across the front of your body. Watch." She demonstrated, rolling head down over his raised knee. She slapped the mat and rolled to sit up facing away with her legs in a flat V. She turned around to find Geordi slack-jawed. "Ready to try it again?"

He nodded mutely.

* * *

><p>The tension was still high as Geordi and Tasha rode the turbolift together. They didn't make small talk. The doors opened on deck two and they both exited. They walked silently through the corridor to Geordi's door.<p>

"Well, I had a great time – " Geordi started.

"I'm so glad we –" Tasha began simultaneously.

They both stopped and laughed awkwardly. Tasha reached out her hand as Geordi opened his arms for a hug. They both dropped the gestures. Tasha stepped backwards and waved. "'Bye!" She turned and walked away as Geordi entered his cabin.

Data's quarters were two doors down. She pressed the door chime.

"Enter," Data's voice came over the intercom.

Tasha went inside, and Data looked up from his workstation. "Hel-" His greeting was cut off as she spun his chair, straddled him, and kissed him with both hands on his face. She let him go.

He tried again to speak. "How was -" Another kiss, and she unfastened his uniform front as she pushed open his mouth with her lips and tongue, her teeth bumping against his. She untied her jacket and dropped it to the floor; she was wearing a black undershirt beneath.

"Am I to understand - " Data began.

"Off." Tasha ordered, pointing to his uniform.

Data frowned. "You are sitting on me."

Tasha stood and stripped off the rest of her clothes with lightning speed. Data slowly followed, one eyebrow raised, stopping when he got to his own black undershirt and briefs. "Is it not customary to greet -" The rest was muffled as Tasha grabbed the hem and pulled his undershirt over his head. She flung it across the room. In another second, they were both naked. Tasha pushed him back down in his chair.

"Tasha, I must protest. I was working on -"

"You seem ready to me," she pointed out, and climbed on top of him.

"I recently wrote a variation on my program initialization to accommodate your sometimes precipitate demands on my sexual functions," Data explained.

"Lucky me!"

"You are also 'ready', I might add," Data noted. Further comment was made impossible by Tasha's kisses. She was intent and nearly silent, and he felt rather than heard her achieve her goal in an astonishingly short time. She held him tight, and then abruptly released him, clambering off of his lap.

She dressed in panties and tee shirt and walked barefoot to the replicator in the next room. "Water. Cold." Tasha drank down the contents of the materialized glass.

Data wore a look of annoyance as he picked up his underclothes from a far corner and put them on. "Hello, Tasha."

She put the glass in the dematerialization slot and skipped over to him. "Hello, Data. I'm all better now. Thank you." She kissed his nose.

"Tasha, sit down. We must talk." Data indicated his small sofa.

She sat. "About what?"

He sat beside her. "We have not heretofore discussed our views on fidelity and monogamy in our relationship. I believe we should do so at this time."

Tasha turned off her forced lightheartedness. "Why?" she asked in a flat tone.

"Because, at the risk of being indelicate, you just initiated intimate relations with me from a state of full arousal, after having spent 2.5 hours in the holodeck with someone else."

"Not 'someone else,' Data. With Geordi. Your best friend."

"I know whom you were with. Why do you sound indignant?"

"You're accusing me of being unfaithful, aren't you?" Tasha was making a great effort to speak rather than shout.

"I have accused you of nothing. We have not made our views on fidelity explicit. I have determined that this is the proper juncture to do so."

"Data, let's back up here. I'm in a great mood. I don't want to fight with you. Nothing happened! I just felt like a proverbial roll in the hay, that's all." Tasha leaned over to kiss him, and Data feinted back.

"We are talking now. If 'nothing happened,' then explain your state of being."

"I wouldn't have to explain myself if you trusted me," Tasha snapped.

Several micro-expressions flickered across Data's face. "Tasha, you are taxing my available computational resources. I was working on a complex set of simulations for the navigational sensors when you arrived. I initiated my sexuality program, which did not reach its conclusion, and is thus currently paused. I am also processing this new information about you and Geordi – a situation I have never encountered before – and adding the variables to both my heuristic programs and my probability databases. Though I am loath to say it, I have reached my limit. If I were to run a level four self-diagnostic, I would have an overload to my higher reasoning pathways."

"I'm sorry, Data! I didn't mean to be so inconsiderate." Tasha was genuinely concerned. "Listen – full disclosure. Geordi likes me a little bit, okay?"

Data gave a noncommittal grunt.

"It's harmless!" Tasha insisted. "I don't feel the same way about him, but it's flattering, of course, and I let it go a little bit to my head. I'm sorry I took it out on you, and I'm sorry I was one-sided about my fulfillment." She put an arm around his shoulder. "There's time to fix that, you know."

"'A little bit.'" Data looked defeated. "Is it because Geordi is human, that you find his interest in you arousing? If so, I cannot compete with an instinctive response."

"No!" Tasha grabbed his hands. "You're not the first non-human I've slept with, you know. That really doesn't matter to me. It's nothing to worry about. Nothing happened tonight, and nothing will. My word as a Starfleet officer." She poked him in the chest. "I'm with _you_, Data, because I want _you._" She put one hand behind his neck and looked him in the eyes. "Tell me what you told me on Ligon II."

Data scanned for the appropriate response, discarding several before isolating the proper one, and changing it from a question to a statement, based on her request. "You are mine."

"Say it again." She was pushing him down on the cramped two-seater, twisting to lie on top of him.

"You are mine," he repeated, the concern gone from his expression.

"Again. Your program's not on pause now, is it?"

"No. You are mine, Tasha."

"And you're mine, Data. Don't you forget it. End of discussion." She closed her eyes and kissed him, much less hurriedly this time.


	31. Chapter 31

Ten-forward was lively the next night, as the Enterprise was mere hours away from Haven. The topic of conversation was largely the same throughout the bar.

"What's everyone planning to do on shore leave?" Beverly asked.

"Haven is famous for its clear blue seas and exotic aquatic life. I plan to go snorkeling," Deanna replied.

"Snorkeling – is that the one with the wetsuit, or the bathing suit?" Will asked her ingenuously.

Deanna smirked. "Bathing suit."

"Want company?" he asked with a grin.

"Sure."

"I'm going to go rock face climbing," Tasha said.

"Alone?" Data asked with concern.

"Why not? The transporter chief will have my coordinates the whole time. If I slip, I'll end up back on the ship. But the views are supposed to be breathtaking – I can't wait."

"I will not take leave on Haven," Worf announced.

"What? Why not?" asked Tasha.

"A vacation world holds no interest for a Klingon. I will attend a cleansing retreat at Starbase 65. My shuttle leaves tonight."

"Oh. But you just got back," Tasha said, disappointed.

"I will spend my leave time as I choose," Worf growled.

"What are you going to do on leave, Beverly?" Deanna asked.

"I'm going to upload some trashy novels to a PADD, put on some skin protectant, and lay on the beach," Beverly replied in a dreamy voice.

"But, what will you _do_, Doctor?" Data asked.

"Nothing. That the whole point," she replied.

"We have a school field trip planned to a quartz grotto," Wesley said. "We're going to get there by transparent-bottom boat."

"That sounds great, Wes," Geordi said. "What will you do, Data?"

"I do not know. Determining the proper usage of leisure time is still a challenge for me. I prefer to employ my time in actions that will enrich my life," Data answered.

"That's the definition of a vacation, Data," Beverly enthused. "Why don't you join Wesley's class trip?"

"Yeah, Commander, it'll be fun!" Wes agreed.

"Or you could check out the resort town with me," Geordi put in. "I thought I might go cruising."

Data looked perplexed. "Define 'cruising'."

This raised a general laugh. Beverly looked at Geordi pointedly, and then looked at her son.

"Well, Data, 'cruising' means you find a popular gathering place and meet the locals or other vacationers. You try to make a connection with someone and spend some quality time with a new friend," Geordi explained.

There was more laughter. Wesley rolled his eyes. Data's confusion had not diminished. "But how can one make a new friend so quickly? We will only remain at Haven for five days."

"Data, how long have you been in Starfleet?" Tasha asked.

"Twenty-three years, three months, two days . . ." Data began.

"And in all that time, no one's ever taken you cruising?" she went on incredulously.

"I do not understand," Data replied.

"Not even at the Academy?" Will asked.

"If someone could just explain – "

"They're talking about sex, Data," Wesley said.

"Don't you have homework to do, young man?" Beverly gave him a laser beam stare.

"I'm fourteen! I'm not a baby," Wes protested.

"Now, Wesley." She stared him down.

Wes stood up in a huff. "You always make me leave as soon as the conversation gets interesting." He stormed out.

"Data, cruising is a time-honored Starfleet tradition," Geordi expounded. "We find women of easy virtue, dazzle 'em with our rapier wit and fine physiques, set off by our snazzy uniforms, and we have our way with them."

"Ah. What is the purpose of this activity?" asked Data.

"What, indeed," Worf quipped.

"It's fun," supplied Will.

"I thought that one did not wear a uniform while on shore leave," Data noted.

"You have to wear the uniform to cruise," Tasha replied.

"It has a certain cache," added Will.

"I am still unclear as to the purpose," insisted Data.

"Yes, Will. Illuminate us," Deanna said dryly.

"It takes care of a basic need, and it passes the time pleasantly," Will replied, meeting her look unapologetically.

"What do you say, Data? I could be your wingman," Geordi offered.

The laughter that greeted this turned a few heads from nearby tables.

"You don't have to say 'yes,' Data," cautioned Beverly. "You can find something more worthwhile to do with your time."

"I would not generally refuse an opportunity to study human behavior in an unfamiliar context; however, I may be forced to at this time, Geordi," Data said with a slight frown.

"Good for you, Data," praised Deanna.

"Suit yourself," Geordi replied.

Tasha laughed and shook her head. Data studied her, a contemplative look accompanying the frown.

* * *

><p>Data got off the turbolift with Deanna, Will, and Tasha, and followed her after they'd said goodnight to the first officer and counselor.<p>

"Not very subtle, Data," Tasha chided.

"It may not matter for long," he replied.

Tasha snapped her head up to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Shall we wait until we reach your quarters? I would prefer to discuss the matter in private," he responded.

They walked on without speaking. The look of panic on Tasha's face was set by the time they entered her cabin.

"Tasha, I have come to the conclusion that our relationship is untenable," Data began.

"No."

"We seem to have once again reached an impasse. As important as you are to me, as special as you are in my life – "

"Data, don't. Wait." Tasha put both hands over his mouth. "Don't do this."

He tried to speak, but she had clamped her hands down quite firmly. Data removed them from his face, taking care not to exert too much force on her. "Tasha, we agreed that if one of us wished to bring our arrangement to an end, we would both do so, 'no questions asked.'"

Tasha's lips began to quiver, and as Data watched in astonishment, tears began to roll down her cheeks. He looked at her in dismay. He had run his conversational salvo through the program he had written to predict human behavior based on past interactions. In none of the resultant scenarios had she reacted by crying. Once again, Tasha had responded to stimuli with entirely new behavior.

"Tasha." Data took her shaking shoulders in his hands. "Tasha." She was trying to speak, but incomprehensible syllables were all that escaped her. She was simultaneously trying to stop herself from sobbing, resulting in convulsive gulps. She collapsed against his chest, and he patted her back.

The only words that coalesced were stuttering and haphazard. "Don't…please…you can't…."

Data guided her to sit down on the sofa. He sat beside her and watched as she struggled to control herself. Her eyelids were soon swollen and pink. She wiped her face with the back of her hands, her mascara gone, her lashes blond and spiky with tears. Data watched her with a look of compassion as she slowly recovered her composure.

His voice was extremely quiet when he ventured to speak. "Tasha, you have surprised me again. I thought it best to end our experiment, as you evidenced no greater depth of feeling for me than you did when we began. I surmised that there was no potential for growth in our relationship, and that you saw it in a frivolous light. I did not expect you to react so violently."

Tasha sniffled and swallowed another sob.

Data looked consternated. "I have hurt you. It is counter to my programming to hurt you intentionally. I did not know that my declaration would upset you. I am sorry."

She slumped down on his lap, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes. A realization struck Data. "I have never seen you cry before. What does it feel like to cry?"

A clap of laughter escaped Tasha. She sat up, her face puffy. "It feels horrible," she got out, just before her chin started quivering again.

"I am sorry. Please accept my apology." Confusion and concern showed equally on Data's face. "I did not anticipate - "

"Don't be sorry." Tasha wiped at the tears that had slowed somewhat, and took a shuddering breath. "If you thought I was being flippant about you, it's my own damn fault. I pushed you away every chance I could." She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I'm sorry I'm crying like an idiot. We got into this relationship by reasoning it out like two rational adults. I like _that_ approach." She took his hand, and he felt the dampness of hers, and a minute tremor. "Please talk to me now, Data. I'm listening."

He was visibly taken aback. "You do not offer the option to talk about a problem very often. I am quite willing to discuss my concerns." He gently placed her hand in her lap and released it. "I find my programming inadequate to continue an intimate relationship of such an amorphous nature as ours. I had thought that the boundaries we established at the outset would be sufficient over a long period of time, but that has not proven to be the case. Our discussion last night and our conversation at dinner tonight lead me to believe that our goals are too different to be compatible in the long term."

"We were just kidding around tonight," Tasha murmured.

"I admit that I struggle to distinguish between different forms of humorous discourse and their effect on shades of meaning. But is was not the humorous nature of the discussion at dinner that unsettled me; it was the concept of having sex with a stranger that I found disturbing. I noticed that you had no such qualms."

Tasha gave him an accusatory look. "Data, I've had sex with a lot of strangers, and not always by choice. Do you honestly hold that against me?"

He was unperturbed. "I do not. I do not blame you, nor do I judge you for it. It is about myself that a revelation occurred. It would seem that my programmers have rendered me incapable of maintaining an intimate relationship without first having established a previous one, and without the potential for a long-term involvement. Perhaps it is thus for my protection, to prevent me from becoming a victim of misuse, and to protect me from suffering a fate similar to yours."

"Okay, we both know that I know what it is to be a victim. Thanks for pointing it out. But please don't say that that's what I've done to you," Tasha said bitterly.

"I did not mean to imply such a thing, Tasha. But I do think that we have stretched the boundaries of our agreement as far as I am willing to go."

They looked at each other for some time in silence. Tasha wrapped her arms around herself, as if she'd grown cold. "Is this really the end for us, Data?" she asked.

"When I ask myself if we can go on the way we have been, I find that the answer is negative," Data replied.

"Well, what if we revisit the rules we made, and make some new ones, ones with more potential for growth?" Tasha asked, an edge of desperation in her voice.

Data considered. "I would be amenable to that course of action."

Tasha exhaled a long breath. "You would?"

"I have just said so," Data answered.

"My god," Tasha whispered. Then, louder, "Good, because the thought of losing you just broke me into twenty pieces." She covered her face with her hands, and then swept her hair away from her brow. "This isn't the first time I've had a conversation like this, you know. The longest I've ever been in an ongoing relationship is three months. There always comes a point, usually around the one-month mark, when the man I'm seeing realizes that I can't commit to any future plans, won't define myself as his girlfriend, and will never say 'I love you'. And then, it's over." She shook her head, staring down at the floor. "I just didn't think it would happen that way with you."

"At the foundation of my programming is a desire to connect with others, to change, and to evolve. We have made a connection between us, but without growth, there can only be stagnation. I am sorry if that means we cannot remain a couple," Data replied.

Tasha straightened and looked him in the eyes. "Tell me what it is you need, Data. I'll listen. What kind of a future do you see for us?"

Data hesitated. "I have told you that I hope to marry one day, and that I have a desire to procreate."

Tasha wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Are you saying that you either want to break up with me or _marry_ me? I think I'm going to be sick."

"Are you exaggerating?" Data asked skeptically.

"Only a little. Jeez, Data, that's kinda drastic, don't you think?" Tasha said, the pitch of her voice rising.

"You asked me to tell you my needs," he replied.

"Can I at least have some time to think about this?" Tasha looked even more panicked.

"Take as much time as you require. Understand that I am not asking if you would enter immediately into a permanent social contract with me; I am asking if the potential exists."

"You're still asking a lot." She shook her head, her eyes blank. "Are there any other bombs you want to drop on me?"

"I assume you are speaking metaphorically. I am accustomed to seek advice from humans to aid in my social development. Your restriction on speaking of our relationship to others has made it nearly impossible for me to find reliable aids to help me respond appropriately to the vast amounts of new stimuli that I have encountered. I would like to tell Geordi about us."

Tasha sighed through her nose. "If you tell him, you might as well tell everyone, and then there goes my career. If I get promoted, what will people think? That I earned it? Or that I was sleeping with a superior officer to get it?"

"Tasha, I trust Geordi," Data responded. "If I asked him to keep our secret, I believe he would comply. Both you and he have admitted that he harbors feelings for you; yes, he said so himself," Data replied to her look of consternation. "I would like to disembarrass him of the notion that there is potential in that avenue, and I would like to do it in such a way as to preserve our friendship."

"So, you _are _jealous," Tasha began.

"I am incapable of jealousy," Data interrupted. "But you and I have an understanding, and I think it would be harmful to withhold that information from Geordi any longer."

"Call it what you will; I know protectiveness when I see it," Tasha replied.

"Protective. Yes, that description is apt. I am protective of you, of my own self, and of our relationship. Is that wrong?"

"No. It's probably good." Tasha abruptly turned upside-down, to rest her head on the seat of the sofa and her feet on the wall. Data raised an eyebrow at her. "It counteracts my self-destructive tendencies. I don't want to lose you, yet I push you away. I have strong feelings for you, but they scare me witless. I can't bear the thought of living without you, but the thought of marriage makes me want to scream." She hung her head over the edge of the seat, her short hair falling away from her tear-stained face. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay."

"What is 'okay'?" asked Data, looking at the underside of her chin.

She spun around and sat down properly. "Okay, you can tell Geordi."

Data looked relieved. "Thank you. I will tell him tonight."

"Oh, splendid. Can't wait for bridge duty tomorrow."

"You are employing sarcasm," Data noted. "And the other?"

"I have to think about it."

Data nodded. "Until we continue our discussion, perhaps it would be prudent if we discontinued our intimate relationship."

Tasha grimaced. "You sure know how to put the pressure on. Fine. Agreed."

"I merely want you to consider the question from a rational standpoint."

"Hmm. It may have the opposite effect." Tasha took one of Data's pale hands. "Are we still together, though?"

He looked down at her hand holding his. "Yes."

"All right. Thank you for talking to me. Thanks for – for not rejecting me."

"I do not reject you, Tasha. But you have come to have such meaning in my life that I cannot deny the import of it. I hope you make a decision soon."

His golden eyes were as sincere as ever, with a purity that stabbed Tasha through the heart. They had come to the brink of disaster, and somehow, she was still holding his hand.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked.

"No," Data replied firmly. "You tend to treat a kiss as a prelude. I do not intend to mislead you."

"Hard ass." He looked puzzled at her comment, but she didn't explain it. "I guess I better hurry up and decide, then."


	32. Chapter 32

Data stood outside of Geordi's quarters, his finger hovering above the announcement button. He found himself unprepared for the conversation ahead, but there was urgency to his desire to get on with it. He pressed the small triangle.

"C'mon in," came through the intercom.

Geordi was lounging in an armchair with his feet up on an ottoman, watching a holo-vid. He turned it off and stood to greet Data, but stopped his advance when he saw the troubled look on his friend's face. "Hey, Data. What's going on?"

"Geordi, I am here because I have something to tell you, but it might be difficult for you to hear," Data said without preamble.

"Okay. Is everything all right? Is someone hurt?" Geordi asked soberly.

"No, no one is in danger. It is a personal matter," Data went on.

"Hey, whatever it is, you know you can tell me. D'you want to sit down?" Geordi indicated a second armchair.

"Yes, thank you." Data took a seat, and Geordi sat back down diagonally from him.

"Data, you look like somebody just shot your dog. What's the problem?"

Data's voice was full of solicitude. "I do not know the best way to go about telling you what I must say."

"So, you have something difficult to tell me, but you want to break it to me gently?" Geordi supplied.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Data replied.

"Well, sometimes humans use a good news/bad news approach."

"Explain."

"You try to find an upside to what you're about to say, and you say that first; like, 'The good news is, you're about to have a lot of free time on your hands. The bad news is, you're fired.' You see?"

"Is this approach generally successful?" Data asked.

"Sometimes. Or you can just say the bad news right out and get it over with," offered Geordi.

Data nodded. "That may be the most appropriate method, but I do not relish the thought of injuring you emotionally."

"Okay, now you're starting to scare me. What is it?"

"It is a personal matter, as I said. I would have informed you of it sooner, had it been solely my choice," Data explained.

"Well, spit it out!" Geordi insisted.

"Spit what out? I have no need for expectoration," Data replied.

Geordi put two fingers to his forehead. "Data. Out with it. What's eating you? Say what you have to say, already."

Data frowned. "I must ask you not to share the information I am about to tell you with anyone else."

"Jeez! Did you kill someone?"

"It is nothing so dire. Geordi, I –" Data stopped again.

Geordi leaned back in his chair and put his feet up. "All right. Take as much time as you need – take all night if you have to. Whatever it is, it's obviously troubling you."

Data was fortified by his reassurance. "Geordi, you are my friend. I would not do anything to intentionally harm you, but I may have inadvertently taken a course of action that might cause you pain." He hesitated, but then forged on. "Lt. Yar and I have entered a mutual agreement. We are . . . a couple."

Silence greeted his announcement. Then, "A couple of what?" Geordi deadpanned.

"I am not certain that you understand my meaning. Tasha and I have an understanding that we have kept private."

Geordi was still absorbing the information. "So, you and Tasha are on the sly?"

"I am unfamiliar with that term."

"Are you dating each other?"

"Not exactly," admitted Data.

"Exactly what then?" asked Geordi.

Data considered. "We are . . . special friends."

"You're on the sly," Geordi reiterated. "Since when?"

"Our arrangement began shortly after the incident with the Tsiolkowsky," Data answered.

"What?" Geordi took his feet down and sat forward in his chair. "A month ago?"

"Approximately."

"Oh, man." Geordi looked off in the distance, and then brought his fist to his forehead. "Oh, man – a month ago! Data, why didn't you tell me?"

"I could not. Lt. Yar wished to keep our arrangement a secret, and I agreed. She still wishes it, which is why I have asked you not to divulge the information to anyone else."

Geordi was holding his head in one hand. "I feel this big right now," he said, holding out his other thumb and forefinger together. He looked up at Data, who was watching him with a look of chagrin. "Data, I'm so sorry. If you had told me, you could've saved us both a lot of pain. I would never ever in a million years have hit on my best friend's girl. I had no idea." He put one finger up. "Wait a minute – the Tsiolkowsky – Tasha was breathing fire that day. She practically bit my head off. What happened?"

Data dropped his chin and gave Geordi a look of innocence through his lashes. "I cannot say."

"Why not?"

"I gave my word."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Data. I think I can guess." Geordi shook his head. "I can't believe it. You're sleeping with Tasha."

"I do not require sleep," Data reminded him.

"Spare me the details," Geordi replied. "So, if she wants to keep it a secret, how come you're telling me now?"

"I insisted. I did not wish to jeopardize the friendship between you and me by perpetuating your ignorance of the situation."

"You did the right thing, Data. You're true blue."

"I also wished to ask your advice," Data continued.

"About dating Tasha? My friend, you are on your own."

"We are not 'dating,'" Data corrected. "Our arrangement is more informal than that. It is, in fact, the casual nature of our involvement that has begun to disturb my sense of ethics. I believe it is unwise for us to go on without some prospect for a more formal arrangement in the future."

Geordi raised an eyebrow. "How formal?"

"One day, I hope to marry," answered Data.

Geordi smacked his forehead. "You didn't tell her that, did you?"

"Of course. Why would I not?" A crease appeared between Data's brows.

"You're going to scare her away! Marriage is a big step for humans. It's not something you usually bring up after you've been casually hooking up for only a month."

"It is not?" Data took on a worried look.

"Well, no, not usually. My folks were friends for years before they even dated, let alone talked marriage."

"Hm. Tasha did seem quite shocked when I explained my concerns to her," Data said reflectively.

"I'm not surprised. You've gotta keep that kind of thing to yourself," Geordi asserted.

"But it was important to me. Tasha has been vocal about her needs in the relationship, and she asked me to tell her mine."

"Yeah, but you have to play the game, Data," Geordi said. "Don't show her all your cards."

"I do not understand."

"You handed Tasha all of the power by telling her what you really want. That means she's in control, and she gets to decide whether or not to give it to you. You have to show her that you're in control, you know, that you wear the pants."

Data looked down at his legs. He opened his mouth to speak, but Geordi went on. "Exactly what did you say?"

"I said, exactly –"

"Wait. Lemme rephrase that. What was the gist?"

"To summarize, I asked her to consider whether she could see me as a potential mate. She said that she would think about it."

Geordi shook his head and put his hand on Data's shoulder. "You've got it backwards, my friend. You have to play it cool."

Data looked lost. "Play it cool?"

"Yeah. Make her think that you don't care one way or the other, because you're in control."

Data looked askance at this. "But I do care."

"It's the game of love, Data. You have to play to win."

"What would you suggest?"

"Show her that you're the master of the situation." Geordi immediately warmed to the topic, and got up and began to pace around. "You've got a lot to offer any woman, Data. Use that fancy positronic brain of yours to plan the perfect date, and invite Tasha to share in something really special with you. But when you go, make sure to keep your distance. It will completely throw her off, and put you in control."

"Tasha has forbidden me to attempt any romantic gestures," Data said seriously. "She promised violence if I disobeyed."

"Oh. Well, I guess Tasha's not your typical woman. Most girls love that sort of thing."

"Geordi, may I ask you a question?" Data interrupted.

"Of course."

"Are you angry with me?" Data asked.

Geordi stopped pacing and faced him. "No. Surprised – yes. Jealous – definitely. But I'm not mad. Give me some time, and I might even be happy for you. You're one lucky dog."

Data nodded. "I am relieved. That is most generous of you."

Geordi shrugged. "And anyway, it's par for the course. I've been going through a dry spell lately."

"A dry spell?" Data furrowed his brow.

"Never mind. But take my word for it – don't get too serious too soon. You and Tasha have plenty of time for that. You have to be cool right now."

"Cool," Data repeated uncertainly.

"Y'know, suave," Geordi explained.

"Suave?" Data cocked his head.

"Just trust me," Geordi answered.

Data nodded thoughtfully. "I will give serious consideration to your words."


	33. Chapter 33

The water was as icy cold as she could make it. Tasha finished washing her face and patted it dry with a towel. She leaned in close to the mirror – her eyelids were still faintly pink, but most of the swelling from her crying jag was gone. She hoped the evidence would completely disappear by morning.

She walked to her desk and picked up a PADD, sweeping her finger over the display. She was barefoot and dressed for bed in white pajamas. She felt tired, but her first quarterly crew evaluations were due to Cdr. Riker in a few days, and she wanted to get a jump on the work. The sound of the door chime was unwelcome; she had no desire to talk to anyone. "Come in," she said grudgingly.

The doors parted for Data, who paused in the entryway, an elbow on the wall, his face blasé.

"Data? I didn't expect to see you again tonight," Tasha said with a frown.

"Here I am." He used a deeper, more melodic tone than usual. "Do you like what you see?" he asked with a half-smile and a wink.

Tasha put down the PADD and scrutinized him. Data was an expert in discerning human facial expressions, and he watched hers change from fatigue, to suspicion, to irritation in a matter of seconds.

"What did you say?" she asked with a hint of warning.

He came forward with a calculated insouciance that set her teeth on edge. He stopped about two meters away from her work area. "You are looking exceptionally pulchritudinous tonight."

"So, you talked to Geordi," Tasha said, her voice flat.

"I did."

Tasha was hard-pressed to guess the motivation for the expression Data was sporting. Why was he trying to look smarmy? "And?"

"Let us not talk about him. The only real topic of conversation is either you, me, or us," he said in a sultry baritone.

"What?" Tasha's incredulity made it come out as a squeak.

"According to an early-20th century author," Data explained in his normal tone. He resumed the affect, and raised a finger. "Shall we start with you or me?"

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Tasha snapped.

Data dropped his forced demeanor again. "Into me? My last self-diagnostic revealed no foreign bodies." He took on the affected voice once more. "But speaking of bodies…."

"Awright." Tasha marched over to Data and bodily turned him around. She took him by his waist and shoulder and bum-rushed him to the entryway.

He allowed her to propel him forward. "What are you doing?" he asked in a normal tone.

"I'm showing you the door," Tasha replied, her lips barely open to speak.

"I know what it looks like," Data protested.

"Good." She paused just outside of the door sensors' field. "Then use it, and go find someone else to play with. I have work to do." She gave him a shove, and the doors opened.

Data turned and stepped away from the door, which slid shut. "Tasha, I did not intend to anger you."

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Go away, Data. I don't know what possessed you to come here after our last conversation, but I don't have any energy to play with you."

He examined her closely. She looked outwardly strong, even rigid, but he recognized signs of an inner frailty. She was wearing no makeup, and there were faint blue smudges under her eyes. He recalled the vehemence of her reaction earlier that night. "Perhaps I have chosen an inappropriate moment to conduct this experiment. I believe I have erred."

"Experiment? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Geordi suggested that I had tipped the power dynamic in our relationship too heavily in your favor by telling you of my concerns. He recommended that I change my behavior."

Tasha's eyes and lips tightened to narrow lines. "Oh, he did, did he? Data, I want you to listen carefully. I value your honesty. I'm interested in your authentic self, not some idealized version of you. It doesn't matter what Geordi says. What matters is what you actually want from me and from this relationship. Do you understand?"

Data looked dejected. "But I do not have an authentic self."

"That's a load of crap. You have your own personality, and it's a nice one. I like you just the way you are; there's no need to pretend." Tasha passed a hand over her eyes. "Data, I can't talk anymore tonight. I'm going to bed."

Data ran her statements through his heuristic programs. One of the most problematic aspects of assimilating advice from different humans was to choose a course of action from the often-contradictory directions that they suggested. He had so far succeeded only in troubling Tasha. Words were often inadequate in moments when she felt troubled – she often responded to a physical gesture. Data opened his arms to embrace her, but was surprised to see her shrink back.

"Goodnight, Data," she said firmly.

He cocked his head without responding. The situation was presenting an unprecedented challenge. Tasha threw up her hands and turned away, walking to her sleeping area. The doors opened, and she turned once again. "And the next time Geordi gives you a suggestion, tell him to stuff it." The doors closed behind her.

Data looked unhappy and confused for a moment longer, and then relaxed into a neutral expression. "Goodnight, Tasha," he called.

There was no answer. He left the empty room without another word.

* * *

><p>Tasha lay on a mat in the gym the next morning, working through isolinear warm-ups and thinking. His late-night postlude notwithstanding, Data had given her a lot to think about. The future . . .<p>

It was so hard to think beyond the present moment. She felt an all-around happiness and security that was entirely new. She was finally outpacing her past. The traumatized little girl inside her was quieter than she'd ever been before. The past was a dark blot, the recent past a struggle, and the present was a bright light. The future was just too hazy to see. When she tried to picture herself in a few years' time, she saw herself in uniform, maybe as a lieutenant commander, maybe at a new post, but even that was indistinct. She loved her job now, and would almost be content to spend the next ten years protecting the Enterprise and her crew.

But what was the likelihood of that? She had one of the most dangerous jobs on the ship, assigned to every away mission, with the safety of her colleagues paramount to her own. She'd lost friends on past assignments, working in security. There were no guarantees that she'd be around in another ten years.

And in that case, what should she strive for in her personal life? She had learned the hard way that keeping her distance from her comrades didn't help her in her job. The warmth and familiarity of the Enterprise bridge crew had surprised her at first, but she was finding that they worked better together because of it. And she knew that she couldn't loosen the ties she'd already made, especially not with Data.

She lay flat on the mat and rested for a moment, her abdominal muscles burning. Data. Even when he was being annoying, she still liked him. He could get a little obsessive at times, when a notion struck him, but otherwise, there was no one else she'd rather be around. But did that qualify him as a potential partner? The mere thought was terrifying.

Captain Picard still seemed like the ideal man to her. She wondered, as she often did, if he felt lonely. The burden of command . . . She wondered if he would be open to talk about it – he was always so reserved.

She put her hands behind her head and resumed her exercises, bringing her shoulders to one knee. They had shore leave coming up. Maybe she could find a moment to talk to the captain alone.

* * *

><p>Tasha dismissed the team leaders from the security briefing and headed to the turbolift for bridge duty. She was working beta shift to accommodate the briefing – even for a planet as peaceful and civilized as Haven, she preferred to evaluate it for danger and prepare her teams. The car stopped on deck two, and Geordi and Data got on. She gave them a frosty look and they all faced the door.<p>

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," Geordi said with exaggerated politeness.

"Halt," Tasha ordered. The car stopped. "All right, Lieutenant. Let's clear the air before we get to the bridge."

"You could've told me, Tasha," Geordi began.

"No, I couldn't've, and if you tell anyone else, I'll kill you and make it look like an accident," she vowed.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," he admonished.

"Shame has nothing to do with it. I just don't want our personal business being splashed all over the ship."

"That better be the truth. And if you do anything to hurt Data, I'll kill you and leave no evidence at all," Geordi promised.

"Please do not fight," interjected Data.

They both threw him a look and faced each other again.

"You could've at least told me when I asked you out," Geordi continued.

"That wasn't a date – it was a lesson," Tasha countered.

"You know what I mean."

"What does he mean?" Data asked.

"There was nothing to tell you then," Tasha replied.

"Not according to Data," retorted Geordi.

Tasha flashed her eyes at Data. "What did you tell him?"

"I said nothing but what we agreed upon," Data replied neutrally.

"I'm not stupid, Tasha," Geordi said.

"Oh, really? Then what's with telling Data to act like some kind of operator last night?"

"That's not what I told him. You know he has a very literal way of thinking."

"Yeah, that's why you shouldn't put crazy ideas in his head!"

"I am standing right here," said Data.

"I was just trying to help," Geordi asserted.

"Just butt out!" Tasha yelled, her voice reverberant in the tiny space.

Geordi covered his ears. "Knock it off! I'm blind, not deaf!"

Tasha laughed. Geordi joined in, and then they both stopped, embarrassed, and then laughed harder, despite themselves. Data looked from one to the other in confusion.

"You're a pain in the ass, Yar. You better treat him right," Geordi said.

"Ah, don't worry, La Forge. Neither of us knows what we're doing, so I don't see what could go wrong." Tasha gave Data's arm a squeeze, and he registered surprise, as it was the first time she had touched him in front of anyone else.

"Resume," Data ordered. Tasha dropped his arm. The doors soon opened on the bridge.

* * *

><p>Haven was a giant blue and white sphere in the viewscreen. The captain had noted their arrival in the ship's log, and reports were coming in on the tactical console as the first groups beamed down to the planet. An announcement came through Tasha's communicator.<p>

"Transporter Chief to Security Chief."

"Yar here."

"Message from Haven, sir. The surface station has a problem. A party is requesting to send post to Counselor Troi, but they won't specify any details."

"Well, we can't beam it up, if we don't know what it is, Chief."

"So I said, sir. The party insists that it's a surprise. I'm in transporter room one."

"Understood. I'm on my way." She keyed in a request for relief and headed for the turbolift.

Chief Ryder was waiting at the control console. Tasha nodded to him and glanced at the message. "Did they at least give dimensions?"

"Nothing, sir."

"We have to follow protocol, even if it is just post. Lt. Yar to Cdr. Riker: your presence is requested in transporter room one. Lt. Yar to Counselor Troi: your presence is requested in transporter room one." She turned to the chief. "Wonder what the big mystery is?"


	34. Chapter 34

"You're getting married?" Tasha screeched. She was perched on the edge of the transporter pad, fingering an amber bead necklace. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Deanna was trying to remain stoic, but her face was a mask of tragedy. "The son of my father's closest friend when I was an infant. I . . . I don't know him."

"You're getting married to a guy you've _never __met_?" Tasha was open-mouthed and looked at Will to corroborate her shock, but he was staring at Deanna, looking painfully stunned. Tasha grimaced.

Deanna turned to the transporter chief. "Please beam that," she indicated the gift box, "directly to my quarters."

"Aye, sir."

Tasha stood up quickly, and the grotesque silver container and spilled jewelry and beads dissolved with a shimmer.

"_Deanna_." Will had not taken his eyes off of her since she'd made her pronouncement. "You can't be serious."

"I'm telling you the truth." Deanna fought hard to hold back her tears.

Tasha backed away to the door. "I should get back to the bridge." She realized that she was still holding the necklace. "Sorry –" She handed it to Deanna, who waved it away.

"Keep it. Consider it a farewell gift."

Tasha opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. She looked from Will to Deanna, and beat a quick path out of the transporter room.

Will and Deanna seemed frozen where they stood. Chief Ryder silently wished himself elsewhere, folded his arms behind his back, and stared straight ahead.

Deanna felt pummeled by the welter of emotions behind Will's bright blue eyes. "I should tell the Captain . . ." she began.

"Isn't there anything you want to tell _me?_" Will demanded. She felt and heard his outrage. Deanna glanced at the chief and back at Will, and walked to the exit. He followed right behind her.

Tasha was beside herself as she waited to get to the bridge in the turbolift. She was sitting on the biggest scoop on the ship. She rushed to her station when the doors opened, and bit down on her lips to keep from spilling it.

Captain Picard noted her anxious state. "Is something wrong, Lieutenant?"

Tasha shook her head vehemently. "Nothing's wrong with me, sir."

He raised an eyebrow, but let it go. Tasha was bouncing on her heels, and her eyes were wide and round. Data and Geordi looked at her and then each other. Geordi shrugged.

The turbolift soon disgorged Deanna and Will. It was obvious that something was wrong. "May I speak to you in your ready room, sir?" Deanna asked the captain.

"Of course." The three of them walked away.

As soon as the door closed, Tasha blurted out in one breath, "She's marrying some guy she's never met!"

"Was that in Standard? Geordi asked facetiously.

Tasha was leaning over the tactical console with dramatic collapse. "Counselor Troi is about to marry a stranger. She just got a bonding gift from his family. For real!" she added.

"Intriguing – do you think the ceremony will take place onboard?" Data queried.

"Who cares? I can't believe it, Tasha. You're not pulling our leg, are you?" Geordi asked.

"I care – I have never attended a wedding before," Data said.

"I couldn't make this up," Tasha replied at the same time.

"Do you think she'll stay on the Enterprise?" asked Geordi.

"I guess not: she gave me this as a farewell present," Tasha answered, holding up the necklace that she'd wrapped around her wrist. "Oops – it's not exactly regulation."

Geordi made a kill sign across his neck as the captain re-emerged from the ready room. The three bridge officers were completely silent, and two of them held their breath as they watched him and waited. Picard returned their anxious gazes for a moment before speaking. "As you may already know, Counselor Troi has announced that she will be bonded to a genetically-determined mate presently. She will be leaving us."

Explosive breaths escaped from Geordi and Tasha. Data looked thoughtfully at the captain. "A wedding is a happy occasion for humanoids, is it not? We should be glad for Counselor Troi."

"You're right, Data," Picard answered, "But we are all too concerned with our own sense of loss at the moment. We will be losing a valuable crew member to this 'happy occasion'."

"Genetic bonding," Geordi commented. "Like Vulcans. Seems kinda backwards for such an advanced people."

Data tapped his console. "The wedding party is ready to beam aboard. I will inform Counselor Troi." He got up and went to the ready room, where he nearly collided with Cdr. Riker. Whereas the other bridge personnel seemed surprised, Data was startled to observe that Cdr. Riker looked hurt and angry. Data watched Riker go, and wondered why he had looked as pained as if he had been physically wounded, over news that should traditionally bring joy. Data turned to Counselor Troi. "Message from planet Haven, Counselor. They wish to beam the Miller wedding party aboard."

Deanna nodded wordlessly, trying to smile, but he could see that she was on the verge of tears. She walked out, and Data watched her go. For a bride-to-be, the counselor had looked extremely unhappy. Nothing he had observed fit with the information he had on file about humanoid pre-wedding sentiments. Data wondered if his files were somehow incomplete.

He re-entered the bridge. Cdr. Riker had gone, and the captain was waiting. "I will accompany Counselor Troi to transporter room one. You have the bridge."

"Aye, sir." Data sat down in the captain's chair.

Once the turbolift doors closed, Geordi said, "Well, I'll be damned," to no one in particular.

"Counselor Troi did not seem to be happy," Data noted. "She did not have the appearance of a 'blushing bride'."

"Maybe marriage doesn't make everyone happy, Data," Tasha said pointedly. "Besides, she's throwing away her Starfleet career for a man she's never met. _I _would _never _do that."

"Can you imagine getting married to a stranger?" Geordi asked. "What if he's ugly? Or mean?"

"What if he smells? Anyway, I can't imagine getting married at all," Tasha went on.

Data twisted to look up at her, but she avoided his eye. "How can genetics determine the compatibility of a couple for a long-term commitment?"

"You're asking the wrong crowd, Data," Geordi answered. "Genetic bonding has been out of fashion on Earth for a couple hundred years."

"I hardly knew anyone on the colony who was married – none of the young people were, and a lot of the older people were widowed," Tasha added.

"I am very interested to observe the wedding proceedings," Data remarked. "It should prove an edifying experience."

"You know, Data, maybe we should start right now. I think transporter room one needs a maintenance check," Geordi suggested.

"You're shameless!" laughed Tasha.

"My sensors do not show a problem in – ah." Data stopped as Geordi got up and grabbed his arm. "You have the bridge, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir." She giggled behind one hand.

"Maybe if we hurry, we can catch a look at the groom," Geordi said as the turbolift doors closed.

They returned several minutes later. "Well?" Tasha demanded.

"We missed the groom," said Geordi.

"But we saw Counselor Troi's mother," continued Data. "The captain was carrying her bags."

"And Deanna was yelling at her," added Geordi.

"Deanna? Yelling? I don't believe it," Tasha said. "Well, well, well. The counselor isn't so perfect after all."

"This is almost better than shore leave," Geordi said. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

* * *

><p>Deanna waited in her mother's guest quarters as she finished settling in. Homn had nearly reached the bottom of the enormous valise, and he presented a bundle to Lwaxana with a stately bow.<p>

"Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. Homn!" the statuesque Betazoid cried. "Little One, I've brought you some decent clothes from Betazed. I don't know where you found that dreadful suit you're wearing, but trust me, my dear, grey is not your color. And so plain! It's a good thing you're getting married, because you'd never have caught a man dressed like a penitent."

"Mother, I'm working. This is appropriate for my job," Deanna explained.

"It's fit for the mechanical reprocessor, darling. Just look at this." Lwaxana held up a violet see-through lace sheath dress with a long train and a plunging cutout bosom and cutout shoulders.

"I have nowhere to wear that, Mother," Deanna protested.

"Keep it anyway – the occasion will arise. And this – I thought you could enter the ceremony in this." She dangled a filmy pink chiffon gown with horizontal pleats at the waist and shoulders, and no lining.

"I might as well walk in naked – it leaves nothing to the imagination," Deanna said.

"It will look darling on you, as long as you do something different with your hair. Really, Little One, work or not, it's very severe." Lwaxana pulled out a siren-red silk dress. "What about this? It's very modest."

Deanna held it up to herself. "For a woman at least 12 centimeters taller than me."

"Darling, I do so want to see you happy. You're so beautiful – really, nothing will compare to the splendor of your naked body when the time comes." Lwaxana paused. "Except for mine, that is."

The door chime tweeted. Lwaxana rolled her eyes. "Oh, those dreadful people. We might as well get this over with." With a trill, she called, "You may enter!"

The Millers came into the room. Deanna looked Wyatt over again: he was slight, shy, baby-faced, and sensitive. Not exactly her type. But it was too late now; she had made her choice.

Steven Miller cleared his throat. "Well, why don't we get some ceremonial stuff out of the way? I thought we could take care of the formal presentation now."

Lwaxana looked down her nose at him. "I don't suppose you would have changed out of your traveling clothes. I do hope you've brought something suitable for the rest of the events." She looked Victoria up and down. "Though it won't be of much help, no matter what you put on."

"Mother!" Deanna cried, aghast.

"Let's just get this over with," Victoria snipped. "We present our son to you, to be bonded to your daughter in fulfillment of our vows."

"Couldn't you have fed him up a little first? He's a scrawny thing, isn't he?" Lwaxana commented.

Deanna hid her face in her hands. Victoria bristled. "Wyatt is the finest young man in the quadrant! Deanna is lucky to have him."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. And you know my daughter doesn't cook, so I suppose they will waste away together," Lwaxana added.

"I do eat," said Wyatt apologetically, "I just never seem to gain any weight."

"Mother, please get on with it," Deanna pleaded.

"By all means, Little One. I present to you my daughter, the flower of my womb, the diamond of my house, who has no equal, to be bonded to your son in fulfillment of our vows." Lwaxana flashed a dazzling smile.

"Son?" Steven glared at Wyatt and took his wife's arm. He nodded brusquely to Deanna. "Goodnight." They left the room in a hurry, Wyatt throwing back a rueful look before the doors closed.

Lwaxana sniffed. "They're so very small. I hate to saddle you with such relations, my dear, but it can't be helped. At least you'll make pretty babies. He does have lovely eyes." Lwaxana bustled over to the closet. "Let me show you what I brought to wear, my flower. Wait'll you see my new hairpieces."

Deanna wandered over to her mother, picking up the chameleon rose from an occasional table as she passed. It changed from blue to white with a slow drain of pigment. Lwaxana turned and took Deanna's hands. "I have missed you, child."

Deanna nodded. "Yes, Mother."

_A/N: Words taken directly from Haven written by Tracy Tormé and Lan O'Kun._


	35. Chapter 35

The next morning, there was a full contingent of senior officers on the bridge. They had all set aside their leave plans as they awaited the bonding of Counselor Troi to Wyatt Miller. They were trying to preserve the vacation spirit by playing a game.

"Would you rather have all of the replicators break down at once, or the cleaning processors?" Deanna asked.

Will answered first. "Cleaning processors."

Deanna answered her own question. "Cleaning processors – can't live without chocolate."

"Cleaning processors," Geordi answered.

"Replicators," Tasha responded. Geordi groaned. "What? Being hungry's not the end of the world," she went on, "but I can't stand dirty clothes."

"Replicators," Data answered, with a glance at Tasha. "Obviously."

"Okay, I've got one," Tasha said. "Would you rather have to eat an unknown food that might be poisonous, or drink your own urine?"

"Disgusting!" Deanna cried. "Unknown food."

"Unknown food," answered Will. "If it's poisonous, there might be an antidote."

"Unknown food," Geordi responded. "It might taste good before I'm rolling on the ground frothing at the mouth. I'm pretty sure the other would taste bad."

"Urine," Tasha said, and giggled.

"Eeeew!" Deanna laughed.

"Hey, at least I know where it's been. And I know it won't kill me," Tasha explained.

"Unknown food," answered Data. He looked apologetic. "I do not urinate. My biochemical fluids evaporate over time."

"I have one," Geordi said. "Would you rather undergo enemy interrogation, or a court martial?"

"Court martial," answered Data. "As I do not feel pain, enemy interrogation would most likely amount to dismantlement."

"Court martial," Deanna responded. "It won't matter much longer anyway."

Will gave her a peeved look at that. "Court martial."

"What's the offense?" asked Tasha.

"I don't know – insubordination," Geordi hazarded.

"Hmmm… I could probably beat that. Court martial," Tasha decided.

"Court martial," Geordi answered.

There were yells from all of the officers except Data. "Consensus!"

"I said it first," Will declared.

"Did not. I said it first," countered Tasha.

They simultaneously said, "Data!"

"Cdr. Riker was first by 3.5 milliseconds," Data attested.

"Awww…" Tasha griped.

"Point to me," said Will smugly.

"And a point to me – my question," added Geordi.

"I have one," said Will. "Would you rather be forced to marry a stranger, or a friend with whom you're not in love?"

Data answered promptly. "A friend with whom I am not in love." He turned around when no one else responded. Will and Deanna had fixed each other with glares, Will's sardonic, Deanna's cold. Geordi and Tasha both looked uncomfortable. "Have we ceased to play the game?"

"I think I'll check in on my mother. Permission to leave the bridge, Commander?" Deanna asked, her voice as frosty as her stare.

"Granted," Will replied coolly.

Deanna left with her chin in the air. Data looked around in confusion. "But Counselor Troi was winning."

* * *

><p>The vacation atmosphere on the bridge was dispelled by the plea for protection from the First Electorine of Haven and the discovery of a Tarellian vessel on the long-range sensors. The captain gathered the senior officers in the lounge to discuss the quandary they faced, as they were obliged to serve both Haven and the plague-ridden Tarellians. Just before he dismissed them, the captain invited them all to the counselor's pre-joining celebration. Will stalked out before Picard could finish. Data moved quickly to the door, but turned and caught Beverly's eye as she was preparing to leave. "Doctor, may I ask you a question?"<p>

Beverly stopped as the others filed out. "Of course, Data. What's on your mind?"

"You were married before, were you not?"

Beverly gave him an odd look. "It's a matter of record that I was. Why do you ask?"

"Did the thought of your impending nuptials bring you happiness as the ceremony approached?" Data asked.

Her face relaxed. "Are you worried about Deanna? She doesn't look very happy, does she?"

Data considered. "While I am not able to feel worry, I do find cause for reflection upon Counselor Troi's lack of traditional eagerness for an event calculated to bring her joy."

"I don't rightly understand it myself, but I respect the differences between her culture and mine. My husband Jack and I were engaged for a good year before our wedding, and there were times when that didn't bring me joy, either," Beverly admitted.

"Why do you suppose that was?" Data asked.

Beverly sat down. "It was scary to enter into marriage. It's a commitment for life, and there's something intimidating about making a decision that will affect you for decades to come. When you marry someone, you give up being a single person, and you become a family unit. You give up some of your autonomy in exchange for joining forces. It's a very big transition to go through, and it is about so much more than just two people in love," she wound up.

Data gave a thoughtful grunt. "What is the purpose of bonding two strangers in this manner?"

Beverly shrugged. "From what I understand, genetic bonding brings together two people who've been raised by like-minded families, in the hope that love will blossom between them over time." She smiled. "It's a very romantic view of marriage."

"But, what if love does not blossom?" Data asked, adopting the flowery phrase with a look of uncertainty.

"Well, I suppose cultures that practice genetic bonding might have a different view on extra-marital relations. In Earth's history, it's not hard to find examples."

"That would seem to be a drawback," Data ventured.

"Perhaps. But there's temptation in any relationship to seek love outside the bonds of your vows. The couple has to decide what their faithfulness means to them." Beverly fixed an inquisitive smile on Data. "You're pretty worked up about this, aren't you? You surprise me, Data."

"I am interested in all aspects of human interpersonal relationships and culture. Did marriage make you happy, Doctor – if I may ask?"

Beverly let out a long sigh and leaned her cheek on one hand. "It was hard work, being married. People say that the first year is the hardest, and that was certainly true for us. We got pregnant right away, which made it even harder. Jack's work took him away. I was finishing medical school, and there were times, in those early days, when I wondered if I hadn't made a huge mistake. And then Wesley was born . . ." Beverly swallowed hard and brushed away sudden tears. "Yes, I was happy. The whole experience transformed me into a very different person – a wife and mother – and as hard as it was, it made me very happy."

Beverly was surprised at her own surging emotions. Maybe it was the thought of losing Deanna, whom she already considered a good friend. Or maybe she missed Wes, who was down on the planet with his classmates. Or maybe it was just too easy to open up to Data, who was a perfect listener, and stood watching her with his usual benevolent regard. Though she had long ceased to suffer acutely over the loss of her husband, the thought of him could still bring her to tears in unguarded moments.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Doctor," Data said softly.

Beverly sniffed a little laugh through her nose. "Don't worry about Deanna. She'll find a way to be happy, I'm sure."

Data nodded. "I appreciate your advice." He left the lounge.

"Advice?" Beverly looked after him, taken aback. "Advice on what?" she wondered aloud.

* * *

><p>Tasha pressed the announcement button for the captain's ready room. "Come," he responded over the intercom.<p>

"I've submitted my tactical analysis of the Tarellian ship for your review, sir," she reported.

"Fine, Lieutenant." Picard was watching his monitor, but the young woman made no move to go. He looked up at her. "Is there something else?"

Tasha hesitated. "Captain, I don't mean to be forward, but I wonder if I could ask you a personal question."

Jean-Luc switched off his monitor. "Have a seat, Tasha," he offered. "What is it?"

She sat across from him and folded her hands. "I'm sure everyone on board has been affected by Counselor Troi's announcement. I can't say that I agree with her decision; if I were in her shoes, no one could drag me away from the Enterprise." She stopped, unsure how to say the words she wanted to say.

Jean-Luc could see her trouble. "You may speak freely, Tasha. Tell me your concerns."

"Well, sir, I admire Counselor Troi. I guess I look up to her. But I also . . . take you as a source of inspiration. I . . . um . . . admire you, too."

Jean-Luc looked abashed, but he smiled warmly at her. "I take that as a compliment, Lieutenant."

"It's just that . . . I wonder, Captain: do you ever regret not having married or started a family? Putting your career above all else? If you don't mind me asking," Tasha said haltingly.

"Regret," Jean-Luc repeated. "That _is _a personal question, but I don't mind answering it." He thought for a long moment, as Tasha watched him with rapt attention. "You assume that I've had the chance to do otherwise, but it hasn't been the case, Tasha. I admit, I've had the occasional affair over the years, but not one where I felt an urge to make it permanent."

"Then you've never met the right person?" Tasha asked.

"I didn't say that – perhaps I have met her, but circumstances prevented the relationship from advancing."

Tasha hated to cross the line, but she was dying to ask the usually reticent captain her central question. She decided to brave it. "Captain, do you ever feel lonely?"

He leaned forward, his eyes far away. "There is an inherent loneliness in command. Don't think I haven't noticed how closely my bridge crew has bonded together since we launched. I am sometimes a little envious of Number One, who can both command a mission and be your friend. I don't have that luxury." He focused his grey eyes on Tasha's starry blue ones. "I hope you discover that for yourself one day, Lieutenant. There is loneliness at the top, but the view is incredible."

Tasha felt a swell of pride. "Do you really think I could command a ship one day?"

"I am certain of it."

Her dimples were on full display. "Thank you, sir."

"But, Tasha, many fine Starfleet officers have made their careers _and _married the partner of their choice. One does not necessarily preclude the other," he went on.

"Sir?" Tasha's smile suddenly dropped.

"I have eyes, Tasha." Now he was smiling, reassuringly. "You've made a good choice."

She felt flustered, and rose precipitously. "Thank you for your candor, sir. With your permission?" Tasha backed away and fled through the ready room door.

Jean-Luc chuckled to himself and turned the monitor back on.

* * *

><p>Tasha was starting her cool down on a treadmill in the gym when her communicator chirped. "Dr. Crusher to Lt. Yar."<p>

"Yar here," she answered, a little breathless.

"Tasha, you're going to the pre-joining shindig tonight, right?" Beverly asked over the comm.

"Uh-huh."

"Want to get your hair done with me? Mot has two spots at 1800 hours."

Tasha thought it over. It sounded a little too girly for her, and Crusher might just be reaching out to her because Troi was going away. Still, it seemed unreasonable to suspect the doctor's motives. "Sure. I'll just shower and meet you there."

"Great! Crusher out."

The personal wellness center was busy, but two chairs stood empty, as Beverly had said. The two women sat down, and an assistant covered each of them with a silver apron. Mot toddled over. "Ah, the lovely CMO! You hardly ever grace my path. And my dear Lieutenant Yar – what can I do to beautify you two tonight?"

"We want something special for the party this evening. It's casual dress; so, I thought we might do something different with our hair," Beverly answered.

"Perfect! An up-do for you, perhaps?" Mot weighed Beverly's fine auburn hair in his blue fingers.

"Maybe a half-up – something elegant," Beverly suggested.

"But, of course!" He began removing hairpins from her long red waves. "You didn't wash it, did you? It goes better when it's a little dirty, y'know what I mean?"

They giggled. Tasha watched Mot work, swinging her chair back and forth as he combed and set Beverly's hair, keeping up a non-stop patter. "I don't often get to use the full range of my talents onboard, but I wouldn't trade this job for the galaxy. You meet the most unusual people. I just met the mother of the groom today – interesting human woman. It's a shame about Counselor Troi, isn't it? I hear the groom is a drink of water." Mot clipped the final curler in place and set a timer. He came over to Tasha and ran his blue fingers through her blond layers. "And you, Lieutenant – what'll it be tonight?" He stage-whispered to Beverly, "The only thing this one ever asks for is 'shorter and lighter'."

"Hey, I'm a simple person! I know what I like," Tasha protested with a laugh.

Mot took up a curling tool. "It's pretty long, Lieutenant. I could do something special with this."

"I'm in your hands," Tasha replied. He spun her away from the mirror and got busy with the curling tool and a comb. "The counselor could get any man she wanted, I tell you, and she's settling for an arranged marriage. It boggles the mind. Bolian women are more headstrong. That's why I'm still single." He kept up his chatter, to the amusement of Tasha and Beverly. They wanted to defend their friend, but Mot barely paused long enough to breathe. He sprayed a cloud of holding mist around Tasha's head and air-kissed his fingertips. "There! It's a masterpiece. Have a look." He spun her chair to face the mirror.

Tasha tried to control her reaction. Her hair was shellacked into cresting waves high above her scalp like a giant sugar confection. Mot held the hand mirror to show her the back. "What do you think?"

"It's . . . big," replied Tasha, stunned.

Beverly smiled. "It's definitely dramatic."

"Hey, you wanted special; I gave you special," Mot said with injured pride. "Just touch it. That baby's not moving."

Tasha gingerly touched an artfully cascading curl; it was as stiff as a plasma coil brace. "Um . . . thank you?" she got out.

"That's more like it!" The timer dinged. "And now for you, dear doctor." Mot began unclipping Beverly's curlers.

"Something elegant, please," she reminded him. "And I plan to watch you in the mirror."

* * *

><p>As the senior officers filed into the banquet room, they ran the gauntlet of a most bizarre receiving line. The captain made introductions to Lwaxana, who was chattering on without pause. Next was Steven Miller, who gave awkward punches to the men's shoulders and uncomfortably lingering hugs to the women's. Victoria Miller pinched her lips tighter and tighter, too mortified to speak as each new person was alternately pummeled or mauled by her husband. Wyatt was excruciatingly shy, and Deanna tried to smile as she embraced each of her friends. The introductions over, the bridge crew descended on the refreshment table, save Data, who wandered over to the towering Homn.<p>

"This had better be real alcohol," Will muttered to Beverly as they joined Tasha and Geordi in a small clump. "I want no memory of this tomorrow."

Beverly sneaked a glance at Deanna and Wyatt, who had sequestered themselves in a corner. "What do you think of the groom?"

Will looked pained and downed his drink.

"She could do worse," Tasha replied.

"Bacon-wrapped shrimp!" Geordi plucked one from the tray of the server.

Tasha shook her head at the crewman passing hors-d'oevres. "I mean, he seems nice, from what I can tell."

"'Nice'," Will repeated. "Kiss of death. Could you live with 'nice' for the rest of your life?"

"I'm sure that 'nice' couldn't live with me," Tasha answered.

The mothers of the betrothed couple were squabbling, their voices rising over the muted murmur of conversation like a tsunami of bitchiness. All other talk died away as the two women verbally sparred. Data watched them with unbridled delight. At last, the captain stopped the onslaught with a few polite words. Will fixed a look on his crewmates and replenished his drink.

"Data looks _happy_," Geordi noticed. "He's staring at that big guy like he wants to go home in his pocket."

Lwaxana had taken the captain's arm and was steering him around the room. The captain threw them a mortified look as he passed.

"Had you ever met Deanna's mother before?" Tasha asked Will.

He shook his head. "She took pains to keep us apart."

"Interesting lady," Beverly said dryly.

Data tore himself away from Homn and came over to their huddle. "There is an inordinate level of tension and discontent at this gathering," he announced with excitement. He stepped away to stand by Deanna and Wyatt, who personified Data's observation. Wyatt moved to put his arm around Deanna, but dropped the gesture and folded his arms instead. Data looked back at the four senior officers and returned. "Is it not so? The tension is so detectable as to be almost physically palpable, even to me."

"Yes, Data," Geordi said indulgently. The android moved off to stare at Homn again. "Hey, I just thought of another good one." Geordi turned to Beverly. "We were playing Would You Rather on the bridge earlier."

"Oh, I love that game!" she exclaimed.

"Would you rather take on a Tarellian plague ship, or an overbearing mother-in-law?" Geordi asked sotto voce.

The senior officers looked at each other.

Will was first to answer. "Plague ship."

Tasha was next. "Plague ship."

Geordi answered his own question. "Plague ship." The others were trying to stifle their laughter.

Beverly took a deep breath. "Plague ship. Consensus!"

Tasha knew that she should feel sad about Deanna's looming departure, but the whole thing was just striking her as funny.

The atmosphere of the party disintegrated further after they all sat down to dinner. Wyatt's father set the tone with his first toast, to the dream lady who had haunted his son for years, before his wife harshly reminded him that it had not turned out to be Deanna. The adults in the room seemed to regress as the dinner progressed: Will was pouting like a petulant child, Deanna was simmering, and Data was taking it all in with an unwholesome relish. Tasha watched in disbelief as Will left in a huff; she'd never thought her hero could have feet of clay. She felt proud and a little vindicated when Deanna stormed out a few minutes later. The counselor had seen Tasha at her worst, and it made her feel better to think that Deanna could have fits of anger, too. Data's innocent exhortation to continue 'the petty bickering' was the last thing she'd expected.

"Data, come sit down. Enough observation, now," she coaxed him.

He was fixated on Lwaxana and Victoria, who were arguing over whom had embarrassed Deanna more.

Geordi took his fingers from his forehead and elbowed Data. "Yeah, sit down. There's a good android."

Data sat in Will's vacated seat and twisted to follow the heated discussion at the other end of the table.

"You horrified the poor dear! In front of her friends – you ought to be ashamed," Victoria sniped.

"She's just overexcited – we Betazoids are a passionate people," insisted Lwaxana. "Wyatt, you'd better get used to that temper," she chided. "Oh, my Little One. I suppose we could compromise, if it's so upsetting to her to see us disagree. Captain, would you perform the ceremony tomorrow?"

Picard raised both eyebrows. "If I may do so in uniform, I'd be glad to."

"I suppose you could remain clothed, though it does seem a pity," Lwaxana conceded.

"_I_ will not appear nude!" Victoria cried.

"Fine. Spoil the most beautiful ceremony in the universe. It'll save me a nightmare or two. The guests may remain clothed," Lwaxana said expansively.

"I don't mind following Betazoid tradition," Steven piped up. "I'm sure there are others who wouldn't mind, either." He looked suggestively around the table.

Tasha stuffed her napkin into her mouth. Beverly pretended to have dropped something on the floor and ducked her head under the table. Geordi was silently convulsed. Data opened his mouth to speak, and Geordi kicked him furtively, suppressing an expletive as his foot made contact with his friend's shin.

"I'm sure Deanna will be relieved," the captain said magnanimously.

"Maybe I should go tell her. Excuse me." Wyatt got up with a half-bow and walked out.

"Okay, the guests of honor have flown the coop. How long do we have to stick around?" Geordi asked.

The captain took a sip of his drink and leaned close to the navigator. "Don't even think about leaving me alone with them."


	36. Chapter 36

Data and Tasha were among the last to leave the banquet room. Data had been determined to see the party to the end, and Tasha had felt inclined to wait for him. They walked from the turbolift to her quarters together.

"This whole evening has been so bizarre. It hasn't brought out the best in anyone," Tasha remarked.

Data was still processing the events of the pre-joining celebration, and his response was incrementally slower as a result. "I have not had much opportunity to interact with humanoids that are not members of Starfleet. It is a gross error on my part – the experience has been illuminating."

"You don't plan to emulate anything you've seen tonight, do you?"

"I do not have present need to, but I may have cause to draw upon these experiences in the future."

"I hope not." They had reached her door. "D'you want to come in?" Tasha asked.

"If I may." They walked in and Tasha immediately sat down on the sofa and pulled off her boots. Data sat beside her.

"When do you think the Tarellian ship will reach Haven?" she asked, rubbing one foot.

"They will reach transporter range at approximately 0500 hours tomorrow," he answered.

"What a drag. They could at least wait until a decent hour." Tasha smiled, but Data looked at her blankly. "Might as well try to go to bed now. Wanna keep me company?"

Data looked askance at this. "We both agreed –"

Tasha held up a hand. "I know what we agreed to, buddy. I thought maybe we could talk until I fall asleep."

"That would be acceptable. Have you given any more thought to my question?"

"Have I? I haven't been able to think about much else, and that's with a plague ship on an intercept course." Tasha stretched and began to undress. "Thing is, I think I'm more confused now then I was before I started thinking about it." Data watched as she slipped off the straps of her bra without removing her undershirt. She pulled it through her sleeve and snapped it like an elastic band to the corner of the room that held the cleaning processor.

"I concur. Especially in light of Counselor Troi's bonding tomorrow, I find the information I have on file to be inconclusive at best. It is a much more complex issue than I had originally imagined," Data said.

"Then, why is it so important to you?" Tasha pressed the lock of a drawer, pulling out a pair of pajamas for herself and throwing Data's at him.

He caught them with a deft motion. "It seems to be a part of my programming. I can only assume that it is for my protection."

"Protection from what?" Tasha watched with interest as Data changed.

"Perhaps from running afoul of human conventions. Marriage is the foremost conventional arrangement for two people who wish to join their lives together."

"How can you say that so casually? It makes my skin crawl just to hear the word. I'm too young to think about getting married someday." Tasha meandered to the bathroom with Data right behind her. She jumped a little, startled by her appearance in the mirror. "I almost forgot what Mot did to my hair."

"May I?" Data poked an inquisitive finger at the frozen yellow crest. "It defies gravity."

"Why can't my answer be, 'I don't know'? Isn't that enough of an answer?"

"It is insufficient for my purposes, Tasha. I am sorry." Data was tentatively touching a motionless pouf of her hair.

"Lay off! I'll wash it, okay? It'll save me some time tomorrow, anyway." She began unfastening her pajama top, and then turned to him with a speculative look as she shrugged it off of her shoulders.

Data raised a finger. "Do not ask me to join you, Tasha."

"Why not?" She stepped out of her pants and stood topless in her panties.

"It can only lead to one thing. You re-stated your awareness of our agreement mere minutes ago."

She put her hands on her hips. "Yeah. It could only lead to wet, slippery fun – can't have that." She reached for the nozzle of the standard shower and started the water. She shimmied out of her underwear and got in the tub.

Data had not changed expression. "I do not question the validity of your stipulations as you present them. I simply abide by them."

"Maybe not when I present them. You just save up your arguments until I'm not expecting them and then you bushwhack me." Tasha raised her voice to be heard over the sound of the shower.

"I do no such thing," Data rebutted calmly. "I present counterpoints after due consideration."

"Well, I have a counterpoint for you – define 'intimate relations'."

Data furrowed his brow. "I do not understand."

"You said we should suspend our intimate relations while we figure out our future."

"I said 'discontinue.' Your point?"

"What exactly are we discontinuing?" She was making whooshing sounds as she rinsed her hair under the shower head.

Data gave the curtain a puzzled look. "Sex – I thought that much was clear."

"What about everything else? You wouldn't even kiss me the other night. Who knows how long we'll be figuring this out? I'm human, you know. My feelings for you come with certain urges."

He took time to think before responding. "Are you negotiating?"

The sound of the shower stopped. Tasha poked a hand out. "Towel?" Data handed it to her and waited. She stepped onto the bath mat, the towel wrapped around her. "I suppose. I miss being with you already. Couldn't we make out, at least?"

Data cocked his head. "Define 'make out'."

Tasha began drying her hair. "It's the other stuff. From what I've heard, it's what adolescents do before they become sexually active."

Data's puzzlement increased. "You imply that you are unfamiliar with this practice."

"Well, yeah. Sex was as casual as a handshake on the colony. It was usually a straightforward affair. I didn't even know about the other stuff until I lived on Earth, in California."

"At the Academy?"

"In school, and at the Academy, yes." She ran her fingers through her hair and turned off the drying tool. "Better?"

"The laws of physics apply to your coiffure once more." Data looked at her expectantly. "Is that humorous?" She patted his cheek and shook her head. "I also began to experiment with sexuality at the Academy," he went on.

That brought Tasha up short. "How old were you?"

"Chronological age? I was four," Data replied matter-of-factly.

"My god. And I thought _I_ was young when I lost it." Tasha put on her robe and unwrapped her towel, wiping behind one ear with it before she hung it up to dry. "Want to tell me about it?"

Data looked circumspect. "Four is far too young by human standards, but my programming did place me at adult maturity from the time of my activation. Several of my classmates at the Academy were curious about me. My first sexual experience was with a female classmate who was quite frank about her curiosity. She asked me outright if I would have intimate congress with her, and to my surprise, I found that I could comply. Once all of the criteria for my sexuality program had been met, I received a conscious internal prompt. I was able to then give an affirmative response to both it and her."

Tasha's eyes danced. "Fascinating. How was your first time?"

Data scanned with his eyes as he accessed the memory file. "By turns, it was interesting, astonishing, disconcerting, and in many ways, indescribable. Knowing the facts of human coupling pales in comparison to experiencing it. I am afraid that the young lady was somewhat put off by the experience, however. I had not yet developed a facility for emulating appropriate facial expressions for any given interaction. I believe the word she used to describe it was 'ghoulish'."

Tasha bit down on her smile and tried to look sympathetic. "Oh, no. Trust me, you've improved since then."

"Thank you," Data replied modestly. "It was not my last experience of that type at the Academy. The various feedback I received on my performance did, in time, improve."

Tasha finished in the bathroom, and they both walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed. "My first time was strange, too. I was very young, and I convinced a boy I liked, he was a few months older than me, to do it with me, so it wouldn't be rape the first time." Data looked at her with concern. Tasha looked away and went on. "It was a fact of life for us, as real and omnipresent as our hunger and our poverty. The gangs ruled by intimidation and terror tactics, and rape was their most powerful tool. They recruited soldiers that way – the same men who terrorized us at night offered us protection during the day, if we'd join them. I wouldn't give in, no matter how they tried to brutalize me."

"Tasha." Data tried to take her hand, but she pulled away.

"Anyway, once I hit puberty, I tried to hide the signs, but I was growing like a weed. I was becoming a target, and I just knew it was only a matter of time before the odds went against me. So, I decided the first time was going to be my choice. I ran around with this kid, I liked him well enough, and I talked him into doing it with me. It was okay. It lasted under a minute – it took us longer to figure out the condom than to do the deed. We both felt embarrassed as all hell, but we took care of it, and it wasn't frightening, and no one forced us. I mean, I was scared when I bled, but I wasn't afraid for my life." Tasha met Data's eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Data. I don't need your pity. It's in the past. I'm here now, and I'm safe."

He made his expression more benign, but continued to ponder. Though it was impossible for him to forget the facts of Tasha's past, he did not always take them into consideration when he dealt with her. Tasha projected such an image of strength; what she had had to overcome to achieve that strength was not as readily evident. Finally, he spoke. "Tasha, why did you choose me?"

She took her time before answering. "I liked you from the moment I met you, Data. I didn't know what to expect when I read your file, and found out I'd be serving with the only sentient android in the universe. I definitely didn't expect you to be so cute, or so kind, or so gentle. And then, I thought that the Farpoint mission forged a bond between us."

"I, too," Data remarked.

She nodded. "And now that I know you better, I guess I find comfort in the fact that you choose to be with me intellectually, that it's not my looks or my body that makes you choose me. It's myself." She took his hand. "When I look at myself, sometimes I see that grubby, frightened girl staring back out at me. But when I see me through your eyes, I see . . . someone brave. Honorable, even. Worthy." They had locked eyes, and neither one shied away. "It makes me hopeful."

"Hopeful for what?" Data looked at her with intensity.

"I don't know – the future. For who I might become. For my potential. For a happy life – maybe a happy life with you."

Data took her other hand, and they sat like that in silence, side by side, looking into each other's eyes, Tasha squeezing Data's hands so hard, her knuckles were turning white.

He broke the silence after a long while. "Perhaps that is enough."

Tasha squeezed his hands impossibly tighter. "Enough for what?"

"Perhaps it is enough to know that you see me in your future, to assuage my ethical difficulty. We have much to learn about each other as individuals, and as a couple. I believe there _is _potential in our relationship."

A flicker of a smile lit Tasha's face. "You do?"

"Yes," Data replied, his face still neutral.

"Then we're back on, like, really together?"

"Yes." Data gave her a hesitant half-smile.

Tasha broke into a grin. "Well then, aren't you going to kiss me?"

"I was hoping you would ask." He leaned forward and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek.

"That's it?" Tasha asked, open-mouthed.

"It was an attempt to be humorous," Data said. "Was I successful?"

Tasha took him by the shoulders. "Data, one of these days, you have got to learn a thing or two about timing." She pushed him down flat and jumped on him with a happy whoop. She put her forearms on his chest and held her nose a centimeter from his. "Thank goodness that's over. I wasn't going to get a wink of sleep with you here, otherwise."

"What about your earlier suggestion?" Data was taking in the close-up details of her face that he had not seen for three days: the translucent down on her cheeks, the almost invisible pores of her skin, the variations of pale pink color to her lips.

"About making out? Seems like a waste of time, now." She was edging closer, her nose close to his cheek, her lips hovering above his.

"But we have never done it before. It could be interesting. How would we proceed?" He had dropped the volume of his voice considerably.

"As I understand it, you keep your clothes on, and you fumble around like teenagers, and you get very frustrated." Her eyelashes brushed the side of his nose, but she still maintained an infinitesimal distance from his lips.

"But it would be something different."

"I'm too impatient. Maybe some other time." She barely brushed her lips against his, prolonging her suspense, feeling electricity swim through her like a school of tiny fish.

"Yes. Some other time." He flipped them over with an arm around her back, looking down on her now, and passed his other hand inside the lapels of her bathrobe, his legs between hers. "I do not think that there is any need to hasten the development of our relationship."

She relaxed her knees apart and rocked a little against him. "It's hard to talk when you do that."

"Do you wish to keep talking?" Data asked politely.

Tasha held his gaze and shook her head slowly from side to side.

"Very well." He closed the distance between them and kissed her, a serious one this time.


	37. Chapter 37

Though she was usually a fitful sleeper, Tasha had been still all night, curled around Data like a clinging vine. He had tried to gently extricate himself several times, but she had only clung more tenaciously to him in her sleep. Her knees trapped one of his, and she had both arms wrapped around his waist, and her head rested firmly on his chest. They were both naked, and he received regular prompts to dress from his modesty subroutine. It made him slightly uneasy. The only saving grace was the constant input of skin-to-skin contact – Tasha was soft, warm, and altogether nice to hold. Her lips were parted, and he felt the warmth and moisture of her regular exhalation. Her hair was longer than usual, falling over her eyes, and stirred with her breath. The fine strands brushed his skin from time to time.

Data kept track of the estimated approach of the Tarellian ship through his internal chronometer. He would have preferred to synchronize his estimate with the information from the ship's sensors, but another spasmodic tightening of Tasha's grip on his waist greeted his attempt to move away. She nuzzled her head against his body, and he watched her with lowered eyelids. Tasha had been passionate about their physical reconciliation, and had gotten to sleep very late as a result. She was a reciprocal partner, always attentive to his enjoyment, not put off by the fact that his experience was bereft of physical pleasure. She accepted his unique perception of their coupling as different from hers, but no less important. Data had observed that Tasha never questioned his personhood; she considered him as fallible as any biological being, and had never treated him with any special deference for his inorganic origins. She was acutely interested in his personal preferences, and demanded that he express opinions about what she did to him. He had quickly learned that it was better to make a choice and express a preference than to tell her the blunt truth, that he liked all of her actions equally well. Mitigating Tasha's temper was a much higher priority than keeping to the bare facts in the interest of serving the truth.

The time was approaching when Data knew that they would be called to the bridge. He decided to try to wake Tasha. He stroked her back and bent to whisper her name in her ear. She responded instantly with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes snapping open. She relaxed and smiled as she realized where she was, and sighed and stretched, finally releasing him.

"Hi, Data." She ran a hand through his hair, mussing it with her fingers. "Is it time?"

"Soon." He submitted without protest to her caresses. "I thought it best to return to my quarters before we are called to the bridge, but you would not let me go."

"You got that right," she replied, her voice fuzzy with sleep. "I'm never gonna let you go."

* * *

><p>By 0600 hours, the Enterprise was orbiting Haven with the Tarellian ship in tow. The captain would have preferred to wait for a later hour, out of consideration for the sleeping groom, before ordering Wyatt to the bridge to confirm Counselor Troi's supposition that the Tarellian woman Arianna was the one from Wyatt's drawings, but the timing couldn't be helped. They all waited in suspense for the young man to respond to the order.<p>

"If this isn't the most bizarre week I've ever had, I don't know what is," Geordi said quietly to Data.

"More bizarre than visiting a space station that revealed itself to be comprised of an alien entity?" Data asked.

"Different. Just imagine you've been seeing some dream babe in your mind your whole life, and then you meet her."

"I cannot imagine. It is bizarre," Data conceded.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Deanna joined her parents-in-law-to-be in a banquet room. Chairs were set in rows for the bonding ceremony, with a podium at the front and a few decorations already in place. The setting seemed appropriately sparse and somber to her – she had felt Wyatt's heart turn the moment he saw the mysterious Arianna in the viewscreen. His whole body language had changed – the nervousness and shyness had fallen away, and he had relaxed for the first time since he'd come onboard. Since that fateful moment on the bridge, he had closed his mind to Deanna. She felt herself at a low point: she was leaving her new friends and her Imzadi to join her life to a man whose feelings for her were ambiguous at best. There was always her work – she could practice psychology no matter where they lived – but what she would be giving up to honor her vows…<p>

She tried to attend to the Millers, who were talking over the details of the ceremony with more zeal than she could even begin to feign. The Millers were good people, she could tell. Deanna felt their love for their son, their acceptance of her as a new daughter, and their hopeful anticipation for the next step of their life as grandparents. They were good people, but they were prosaic. They did not share her relish for the unknown, her love of challenging her mind, feelings that had drawn her to Starfleet and the mysteries of exploring the galaxy. They would treat her kindly, but they would never understand her. This bonding ceremony would take her irrevocably away to a new life, a much different life than she'd envisioned for herself when she'd signed on to the Enterprise. She felt the pain of it as though they were arranging a funeral for her old self.

Wyatt came in through the door, his hands full of medical supplies, and Deanna immediately sensed his turmoil and resolution. She knew instantly that her future was in flux once more.

* * *

><p>Beverly was in her office when she heard the call over the comm. "Medical emergency in main transporter room. Chief Ryder is unconscious."<p>

"I'm on my way." Beverly grabbed a med kit and rushed out of sickbay. "Medical to Security: meet me in transporter room one."

Beverly and Tasha reached the transporter room at the same time. Chief Ryder was on the ground, just coming around, with Ensign Jae crouched over him with a tricorder. The chief opened his eyes.

"Don't try to move," Dr. Crusher cautioned him, probing him with her tricorder. "What happened?"

"Dr. Miller came in with the medical supplies like you said, Doctor. Then he hit me with a hypo – I don't remember anything else." He squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Ambizine. The effects will wear off soon, Chief. He gave you a very small dose." The doctor replaced the probe in her tricorder and helped him sit up.

Tasha was standing at the control console with a look of shock as she read the display. "Wyatt beamed over to the Tarellian vessel. Doctor, he's trapped over there. He can never come back."

Beverly looked at her with sadness. "It must have been his plan. He wanted to help cure the Tarellians . . ."

"But he can _never _return from that ship," Tasha repeated.

Beverly shared a look with her. "He must have known that, Lieutenant. There's nothing we can do."

* * *

><p>Deanna and Will walked away from the transporter room, having said goodbye to the Millers and Lwaxana. The captain had prudently returned to the bridge ahead of them, leaving them alone together. The two walked slowly, both lost in thought. The silence became uncomfortable.<p>

"Are you relieved that I've been jilted?" Deanna asked wryly.

"If you can feel my relief, then you must also feel my anger. I still don't know why you agreed to go through with it in the first place," Will replied.

Deanna stopped in the empty corridor and folded her arms. "Haven't you ever made a promise that you felt obliged to keep?"

Will didn't flinch from the accusation in her dark eyes. "Deanna, when will you stop punishing me for that? It's been over two years now . . ."

"When will you realize how much I suffered? And you would do it to me again, if I gave you the chance."

"You don't know that."

"I know _you_." Deanna started walking again. Will followed her. "I won't be caught again in a contest with your career. I know what will win out."

Will took her hands and stopped again. "Imzadi, you could give me a chance – you could give us a chance. We could make it work. We'll never know if we don't try."

"Bill, it's no use." Deanna withdrew her hands from his. "There's a saying on Betazed, that you can never make whole what's been broken; the cracks will always show." She looked at him with her heart in her eyes. "You don't know how long I held out hope, those years when we were apart, that we would be together again, and things would be as they once were between us. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life, to finally let go of that hope. To let go of my feelings for you. To admit that it was really over. I can't go back, Bill. I just can't let you hurt me again."

He felt her words like a sharp slap. He shook his head. "Call me Will. Everyone else does." He strode away down the hall. He would easily have outpaced her, had she followed. Deanna stood still instead, and watched him go.

* * *

><p>With only a day and a half left of their sojourn at Haven, Tasha was eager to get to the planet's surface and enjoy what time she could take. She got in the turbolift, fully outfitted for a rock climb, carrying a small overnight bag in one hand and her climbing gear on her back. The doors opened to admit Deanna. She was casually dressed in a lavender one-piece suit, with her curly hair down around her shoulders.<p>

"Hi, Troi! Are you headed planetside, too?" Tasha asked.

"Mm-hmm. I didn't tell my mother, though. I've had enough family for the time being." Deanna adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag.

"Where are you staying?" The doors opened on deck six and both officers got off.

"At the big resort on the beach. What about you?" Deanna asked.

"I think I'm at the same place. There's a shuttle that will take me there from the cliff I'm going to climb. I'm going to beam straight to the bottom of the rock face, before I lose the light. Maybe you could take my bag?"

"Of course." Deanna took it from her. "Sorry that your leave got cut short because of me. I feel a little guilty for involving the whole bridge crew in my own personal drama."

"Don't feel guilty. We thought that you were leaving us. We wouldn't have let you go without spending as much time with you as we could," Tasha replied. "I'm so glad you're staying with us instead. I'm sure everyone is."

They had reached the main transporter room. The officers greeted the crewperson on duty. "I am, too. As strongly compelled as I felt to honor my vows and bond to my father's choice in a mate for me, I'm very grateful that things took such a strange turn," Deanna admitted.

Tasha stepped onto the transporter pad. "I'm beaming straight to the rock face at 211 mark 059. Keep a lock on my signal. I'm going to begin my climb right away. Beam me out if I get into trouble, okay?"

"Aye, sir," the assistant chief replied.

"See you at the hotel, Troi."

"See you tonight," Deanna agreed.

"Energize." Tasha disappeared in a shimmer of light.

* * *

><p>Deanna walked into the seaside hotel room, dropped her bag on the floor and went through double glass doors to stand on the balcony. She inhaled a deep breath of salty air. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, reflected on the water in a long, sparkling ribbon. Haven was just the paradise it was reported to be. She wished that the legends of its healing powers were true – she felt heart-sore at the moment. As much as she was gratified to be staying on the Enterprise, she felt a pang at the sight of the beautiful seashore, and the spacious, well-appointed room. It was the perfect romantic spot for two, and there she was, alone. She sighed and went back inside the room, opened her bag, and pulled out her swimsuit. She was sure that the tropical colors of exotic sea life would heal her as well as any fairy tale magical power.<p>

* * *

><p>Data entered the main transporter room and walked to the control console. "Chief, is Lt. Yar rock climbing on the planet?" he asked.<p>

"Aye, sir," she replied.

Data nodded. "Do you have a lock on her signal?" He looked casually over the assistant chief's shoulder.

"Yes, sir." She looked back at him. "Would you like to check?"

"If I may." She moved aside for him. Data watched the coordinates as they increased in a slow vertical climb, and noted the tiny representational blip on one screen. "Thank you, Chief. As you were."

She re-took her post, but Data still had not left. "Is there anything else, sir?'

"I believe I shall stay and perform an inventory of the supplies in the storage units."

"Inventory is not scheduled for another four weeks, sir."

"Yes, I know. I am off-duty, however. It seems like a worthwhile employment of my time." Data moved to the back wall and removed the first storage panel cover.

The assistant chief shrugged and turned back to the console. Data got to work, casting frequent glances back at the console's readout.


	38. Chapter 38 Epilogue

Epilogue – Got to Give It Up

The Enterprise was underway once more. Worf had returned from leave, and the bridge crew was discussing plans to celebrate Counselor Troi's continuation at her post.

"We need to do something special – we came this close to losing you, Deanna," Will insisted.

"It was fate that kept you here with us," Worf said.

"There you go again. What if she doesn't believe in fate?" asked Tasha.

"I don't disbelieve in it," Deanna replied.

"Take a stand," Geordi quipped.

"You all don't have to plan anything special for me," Deanna went on. "We're just back to the status quo."

"There was nothing status quo about our trip to Haven," contradicted Geordi.

"I have a suggestion," offered Data. "Several of the entries in our contest for the holodeck programmers are quite inventive. Perhaps we could choose one to test out as a group."

"Data, that's perfect," said Will.

"It does sound like fun," Deanna admitted. "We have to invite Beverly, too."

"And the captain," Will added.

"What are the choices?" Geordi asked.

Data got up from Ops and went to Science 2. He activated the library computer and began to read off titles and descriptions. One immediately caught their attention. "Earth circa 1937: a ballroom dance and murder mystery. Unravel the secret in an elegant setting and dance the foxtrot in a chandelier dream."

"Oh, that sounds romantic!" Deanna cried.

"The captain likes mysteries – I think that's our winner," Geordi said.

"We could dress in costume," Data noted.

"Oh, my god," said Tasha.

"I will not dress in costume," Worf stated.

"Don't be a spoilsport. I'm telling the doctor," Will said. "Then she can invite the captain."

"Good thinking," agreed Geordi.

"Why the doctor?" Data took his seat at Ops again.

"She's known him the longest – they're old friends. He might actually say 'yes' if she invites him," explained Will.

"Do we have to wear costumes?" Tasha caviled.

"Don't worry – I'll help you," Deanna assured her. "I'll research the time period and help you dress. It'll be fun."

"It does not sound like fun," Worf mumbled.

The plans for the holodeck party came together quickly. The women would convene in Counselor Troi's quarters at 1800 hours. The men would meet in Commander Riker's. They had extracted a reluctant maybe from the captain, and Wesley was told in no uncertain terms that he was not invited. They would all arrive at holodeck one at 1930 hours. It was a fitting consolation for the leave that had been unexpectedly cut short.

Beverly was already in Deanna's quarters with a flute of sparkling wine in hand when Tasha arrived. Deanna had Beverly's hair in her hands, experimentally bundling it at the nape of her neck. "Hi, Tasha. Look, Beverly, she already has the perfect hair." Deanna let go of the doctor's red hair and crossed to the replicator. "Champagne." She handed the amber flute to Tasha. "Women on Earth wore their hair short during this period. And the clothes – fabulous." She indicated three dresses laid out over her sofa, all long and slinky, in deep jewel tones.

"Pretty," Tasha said.

"This is going to be so much fun," Beverly enthused. "I haven't really used the holodeck. We've been so busy all the time."

Deanna held up a royal blue halter-top gown to Beverly's neck. "Isn't this gorgeous? The clothes of this era were meant to mimic draperies on a statue, all bias cuts and clinging satin." Beverly took it from her. "But I cheated. This one isn't from the replicator." Deanna held up a siren-red silk dress and showed it to Tasha. "My mother brought it from Betazed."

"For me?" Tasha took a big swallow of her champagne.

"Well, no, she brought it for me, but it's made for a much taller woman. I'm sure it'll fit you like a glove."

Tasha fingered the slippery fabric. "Where's the rest of it?"

Beverly and Deanna laughed. "This dress is very modest by Betazed standards. Don't worry; just try it on." Deanna handed over the dress and retrieved a pouch from the floor. "It goes with these."

Tasha burst out with a laugh. Deanna had slipped out two high-heeled sandals, red satin with rhinestone embellishments. The straps and heels were as slim as optic fiber cables. "Are those supposed to be shoes?" Tasha asked.

"Just try them on," Deanna coaxed.

"How am I supposed to walk in those?"

"Practice," Beverly replied. "You're supposed to dance in those."

"Oh, no. No way. I don't dance," Tasha protested.

"Come on, Tasha. It's easy – I'll show you how," Beverly cajoled.

"No, no, no. This feels like an ambush." Tasha downed her drink and coughed as the bubbles hit her nose. "I'm out of this. I'm gonna wear whatever the guys are wearing."

"No!" Deanna and Beverly yelled and grabbed her arms.

"I don't know . . ."

"Have another drink." Deanna ordered it from the replicator and pressed it into Tasha's hand. "Come on. It's my party. Please stay."

Tasha shook her head, but took up the glossy red dress. "Okay. But the first person laughs at me, and I'm outta there." She draped the dress over one arm and went into the bathroom.

Deanna and Beverly shared a look. "You know, Yar, I was the one who did your physical. You've got nothing I haven't seen before," the doctor teased.

"Leave me alone," came Tasha's voice through the door.

The other two smiled and unselfconsciously began to change. They were puzzling out the intricacies of twentieth century zippers and hooks when Tasha's strained voice called out, "Troi, get over here! I need help."

Deanna stepped to the bathroom door, her royal purple gown half open. "What is it?"

"Troi, my underwear is hanging out of this thing! You can see everything!"

Deanna stifled a laugh. "Tasha, Betazed formalwear is generally meant to be worn over the naked body, for reasons that should be clear now."

Tasha unlocked the door and peeped her head around the opening. "Naked?"

"You have nothing to worry about, Tasha; you have a perfect body."

"Huh." Tasha sighed. "Okay. I guess I should start over, then." She closed the door again.

Deanna smiled and went back to Beverly, who was wrenching at a side zipper, to little effect. They had figured out the fastenings of their dresses and moved on to their hair when Tasha finally emerged. Deanna and Beverly both gasped at the sight of her.

The security chief was draped in the red gown. The plunging front revealed a creamy expanse of skin that glowed with health. The bodice of the dress consisted of two bands of fabric that met a hand span above her navel and covered her breasts only by a feat of engineering. The dress clung to her curves and fell in liquid waves over her slender hips to a pool on the floor. Tasha did look like a classical statue, without blemish.

"Tasha," Deanna said in a hushed voice.

"Is it okay?" she asked falteringly. She turned around and looked over her shoulder. The dress was backless, with a reverse cowl that swung daringly low, just grazing the lowest decent point above her bottom. "I feel pretty exposed."

"Tasha, you look stunning," Beverly breathed.

She blushed and put her hands to her face, spinning back around. The flush stained her neck and bosom pink. "You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"No one's even going to look at me at my own party," Deanna lamented.

"All you need are the shoes, and your hair and makeup, and you're ready," Beverly said.

"And jewelry," Deanna added.

"No – you guys – I'm not used to it," Tasha said. "Look, this dress is so long. Couldn't I just wear my boots?"

"No!" the other two chorused.

"Just practice in here for a while. You'll be fine," Beverly said.

Tasha grudgingly strapped the fragile-looking shoes on her feet, as Deanna rummaged though a case of jewelry.

"Hey, what happened to that crazy chest?" Tasha asked.

Deanna threw her a look. "Someone may have accidentally beamed it back to Haven. Ah, here we go." She pulled out a shiny silver cuff with a single bezel-set ruby in the center. "What do you think? You could pretend it's a gauntlet."

"I like that." Tasha secured it over her wrist and held it out with an appraising look. "It kinda suits me."

Deanna nodded. "You just need a touch of mascara and rouge, and some red lipstick. I think we should put your hair straight back from your forehead, with a little height at the crown. It'll look like a chignon from the front."

Tasha looked from one woman to the other, feeling shy but pleased.

* * *

><p>The men waited outside of holodeck one, dressed in black tuxedos, shifting in glossy patent leather pumps and fiddling with cufflinks.<p>

"They are late," Worf said, inserting a finger into his shirt collar. "They are never late for duty."

"This is different. They're making us wait on purpose." Will looked debonair in his double-breasted dinner jacket, his communicator hidden beneath the crinkled red head of a carnation. It chirped.

"Troi to Riker."

"Go ahead, Troi."

"Why don't you boys go on in the holodeck? We want to make an entrance," Deanna's voice replied.

Will raised his eyebrows at the other three. "This ought to be good. You got it, Deanna." He nodded to Data.

"Computer, load program: 1937 Mystery Dance," Data ordered.

"Program complete. You may enter when ready."

Geordi, Worf, Will and Data passed through the bulkhead doors into a gleaming ballroom. Black and white parquet floors glinted with polish below electric chandeliers that cast thousands of twinkling reflections from hundreds of crystal swags and drops. The walls were covered in oversized murals of bright, stylized birds that roosted under geometric swirls of golden trees and vines. The room was empty of people.

"Incredible," marveled Will.

"Data, you must've inspired the programmers. This is impressive," Geordi said.

Data nodded approvingly. "It is a representation of an Art Deco ballroom, historically accurate and aesthetically balanced."

A low growl emanated from Worf's direction.

Out in the hall, the women had just arrived at the holodeck entrance. Beverly wore a small white turban over her hair, with a decent approximation of shingled curls peeking out beneath. Deanna had tucked her hair into a black net snood. Between them, Tasha supported herself with a hand on each of their bare shoulders, teetering in her high heels.

"Just balance on the balls of your feet," Beverly counseled her. "And hang onto someone's arm all night. You'll be fine."

Tasha nodded wordlessly. She felt as nervous as a cadet taking her first exam. They pivoted as a body and put their backs to the wall next to the door.

"Okay, Troi, you go in first: you're the one they're waiting for," Beverly said. "Then me, then Tasha. Ready?"

They nodded and giggled with excitement. Tasha let go of Deanna's shoulder and put her hand against the wall for balance. Deanna squared her shoulders and stuck out her chest. "Computer –"

"Wait!" Tasha grabbed Deanna's shoulder again and yanked her close. "Don't let me make a fool of myself in there, Troi. Promise me you'll tell me if I'm doing something stupid," she whispered.

Deanna put her hand to Tasha's cheek. "I promise." They let each other go. "Computer: enter."

The doors slid open, and Deanna was greeted by whistles and catcalls from the men inside. Beverly laughed. She turned to Tasha. "Balls of your feet."

"Am I too late?" The captain came around the corner, adjusting his black bow tie with a practiced air.

"Jean-Luc! My, you look handsome," said Beverly. "You're not too late – we were just making our grand entrance."

"Shall we?" He offered his arm to Beverly.

"Actually, Tasha could use an arm to lean on. I'll go in alone. But, thank you." Beverly patted down the skirt of her royal blue gown and touched her turban. "Computer: enter." She went through the bulkhead doors.

The captain offered his arm to Tasha. She took it and stepped away from the wall. "Thank you, sir," she said.

"You look lovely, Lieutenant," Picard said.

"Thank you, Captain," Tasha smiled and twitched the skirt away from her feet with one hand. "Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are." Tasha took a tentative step forward, and Jean-Luc's eyes started from his head; her back was bare to the dimples above her derriere. He cleared his throat and composed his face. "Computer: enter."

The room that the doors opened on dazzled Tasha for a moment. When she could focus, she realized that they hadn't taken a step. The six officers inside were staring at her. Tasha kept her eyes on just one of them, sharing a long gaze, and then she looked to the captain. He led them in.

Geordi spoke first. "Wow. You clean up nice, Yar." Deanna wrinkled her nose at him.

"You look fantastic, Tasha," said Will.

"Thanks, Commander." The attention, as good as it felt, was starting to unnerve her. "Shouldn't we get this party started?"

"Computer: run program," Data ordered.

The room was suddenly filled with the motion of dozens of elegantly dressed dancers, the sound of an orchestra on the bandstand, and the tinkle of glasses from the mahogany bar.

Data stepped forward and offered his arm to Tasha with a deferential look at the captain. "May I, sir?"

"Of course." Jean-Luc released her, and she took Data's arm with a smile. He led her toward the orchestra. Behind them, there were choked sounds coming from the other men.

"That's some dress," Will remarked to Deanna, who smacked him with the back of her hand. He laughed and led her to the dance floor with a hand on her back.

The captain approached the doctor. "This era suits you, Beverly."

"Thank you, Jean-Luc. There's supposed to be a mystery with this program. Shall we look for someone who's been murdered?"

"Let's." He offered her his arm and they headed to the bar.

"The cheese stands alone," said Geordi to Worf. "Wanna work the room with me?"

"I _hate _this," the Klingon muttered.

"Don't go too fast," Tasha cautioned Data, as they passed behind the bandleader. "I can barely walk in these heels."

"You have altered your appearance," he responded. He looked somewhat preoccupied.

"What do you think?" Tasha asked.

He held her arm up and pivoted her in a circle, and then tucked her hand in his elbow again. "That is an interesting dress."

"That's it?"

The look of preoccupation in Data's face intensified, and he moved them towards the press of holographic dancers.

"Wait, Data, I don't dance," Tasha stammered.

"Neither do I. I seem to be experiencing a malfunction," he said, with growing concern.

"What's wrong?" They were weaving through the crush of dancers, towards a set of columns that marked off a dimly lit balcony.

"I mentioned to you that I had modified the initialization routine of my sexuality program. Do you recall?"

"Sure, I guess so. So what?"

"It appears that I must make further modifications."

"What do you mean?"

They had reached the balcony, momentarily out of the glare of the bright chandeliers. Data put his hands on Tasha's waist and drew her pelvis against his.

"Oh." She searched his eyes, on a level with hers. "Damn. That's pretty hot." She put her hands on his shirtfront, willing herself not to grab his rear.

"I do not understand. Not all criteria have been met for my program to activate, as we are not alone. And yet..."

"Data, it's very human. I mean, human males can't control their physical response the way that you usually do. Maybe it's not a malfunction." Her voice was calm, but she couldn't stop herself from pressing her hips closer to his.

"It is inappropriate."

"Well, we're getting out of here, before I ask the computer to conjure up a closet."

"But we just arrived," Data said.

"I don't care. Y'know, Troi may not be able to sense what's going on with you, but she sure as hell can feel what's going on with me. We're getting out of here, or I'm going to do something really inappropriate." Even as she said it, one disobedient hand was sliding down the hard line of his abdomen, inching close to his waistband.

"To go where?"

"Nearest empty room." She took a shaky step backwards and stumbled. "These goddamn shoes." She raised one foot and put a finger on the strap.

Data covered her hand with his. "Leave them on. The equalization of our heights presents intriguing possibilities."

"Oh, we are so getting out of here." Tasha grabbed his hand, turned, and shuffled forward on her toes.

"The others will notice," Data said, as they plunged back into the bright lights of the main ballroom, edging along the walls.

"Nah. They're all having a good time already – look." She indicated the general direction of their friends with her head. Jean-Luc and Beverly were talking with the bartender. Geordi, Will, and Deanna were dancing. Worf stood off by himself, glowering ferociously.

"It seems unwise," Data said.

"Data, don't argue with me, for once. Computer: exit." The doors slid open, and they sidled out with a glance back. Tasha looked both ways; there was no one in the corridor. "Okay, where's the closest vacant room?"

Data considered. "There is a banquet hall on this deck, very close by."

"Perfect."

"Would it not be more prudent to go to your quarters?" Data asked.

"It'll take too long. This won't keep. C'mon." Tasha tried to hurry forward, but staggered in her heels. "Damn it! Just carry me, will ya?"

"What if someone sees us?"

"I don't care! Just do it!"

Data swept her up and moved rapidly down the hall. "There will be no bed," he noted.

"But there will be a table." Tasha giggled and put her arms around his neck.

* * *

><p>Will and Deanna swayed to a foxtrot, ignoring the steps and simply moving to the music. He held her close, her hand in his against his chest, his head bent to the top of hers.<p>

"Are you still angry with me?" Will asked.

"I was never angry with you. You were the one who was angry with me," Deanna said softly.

"I'm not anymore."

"I know." She flattened her hand against his chest. "It's better this way. You'll see. In the long run."

Geordi danced by them, his arms around a blank-eyed computer-generated partner. "These holo-babes are great – light as a feather, follow your lead, and they don't say a word." He danced away out of earshot.

"Geordi's found the perfect partner," Will joked.

"It does seem real. What a beautiful fantasy." Deanna looked over Will's arm at the sparkling room.

"Beautiful," he agreed, looking at her.

Deanna smiled and laid her cheek against his lapel.

* * *

><p>Data stood inside the banquet room with Tasha in his arms. "Computer: secure door lock. Tasha, are you sure that this is the right thing to do?"<p>

"You're turned on; I'm turned on. It wouldn't have been right to stay in the holodeck. Relax – we'll be back before they know it. Live a little – be spontaneous."

"Hmmm." He placed her on the edge of the banquet table. Tasha slid her fingers under one red band on her shoulder, but Data stopped her. "Leave it on, please."

Tasha raised an eyebrow. "Better and better."

"It is an interesting item of apparel. Though you are fully clothed, it presents the illusion of your nudity. It is as if you are more bare with the dress on than you would appear with the dress off."

"Shhh…do you hear something?" They both listened silently for a moment.

"I hear music. I believe it is coming from the adjacent crew lounge," Data replied.

"Good. That means they won't be able to hear us." Tasha leaned backwards and scissored her legs around Data's waist, bringing him close with a lurch.

"I think that you should endeavor to be quiet," he cautioned.

"I'll try. Can't promise anything."

He laid her down flat to the table and kissed her. She pushed his face away after a moment. "Let me see . . . good. No lipstick on you. We'd be hard-pressed to explain why you were covered in red lip prints."

"I would prefer to expedite our actions. Is that acceptable?" He took the hem of her voluminous skirt and flipped it over her shoulders. He bent and kissed her navel. "The table is at an optimal height. I trust you are not uncomfortable?"

"Data, don't take this the wrong way," Tasha replied. "Shut up."

* * *

><p>Beverly and Jean-Luc left the bar, threading their way through the holographic dancers to find Will and Deanna.<p>

"Guess what? We're all spies!" Beverly announced, clapping her hands. "All of the action will take place in this room. We're members of something called an anti-fascist movement. We have to find a double agent who murdered one of our colleagues. Isn't that great?"

Will and Deanna were rising and swaying to the waltz the orchestra was playing. "What do we have to do?" Deanna asked languidly.

"Casually question the holographic people without arousing suspicion," Jean-Luc answered.

"Where is everyone else?" Beverly asked.

"Geordi's off somewhere with a holographic date," Will answered.

"Worf left," Deanna continued. "He said he wasn't having any fun. He seemed . . . miffed."

"Where's Data? And Tasha?" Beverly asked.

"I'm sure they'll turn up," Jean-Luc answered. "Let's start our inquiries."

"Yes, let's!" Beverly waved her fingers and they melted back into the crowd.

Will was grinning like a devil.

"What?" Deanna asked.

"What, what?" he replied innocently.

"Hmmm."

"Dip." Will followed his warning with a dramatic dip, and brought Deanna upright again.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I didn't say anything."

"Hmmm," she said again. Will laughed. "Whatever it is you're thinking, I'm sure it's none of our business," Deanna scolded.

"I'm not thinking anything. I didn't say a word," Will protested.

"I can hear what you're not saying loud and clear. Like the captain said, I'm sure they'll turn up any minute," Deanna said.

* * *

><p>"Hey, come here. I can't stand it. Come here and take me." Tasha pushed Data's head away and fumbled at his waistband. "What are these?"<p>

"They are called 'buttons.' The computer described this closure as a button fly."

"Help me, before I rip them off."

He obligingly unbuttoned his trousers. "But I fail to see what significance flight has in the context of a –"

"Data, please. Come here now."

He complied without further words, and she crossed her feet behind his back. "Yes! Oh, I love it when you do that."

"This?"

"That. Don't stop."

He did not stop, but accelerated. "You have employed a forbidden word."

She dug her hand in his hair and brought his head close. She whispered with her lips against his ear, "I love what you're doing to me. I love the way you make me feel. I love this moment. I love it, I love it, I love it." And then she stopped talking, and let the sensation carry her away. She dug her short nails into him and cried out, her thighs squeezing tight. She felt him silently shudder to the end. She kissed his ear.

"That was one for the record logs," she said, after a minute.

"Have you changed your mind about your usage of that word?" he asked.

She put two fingers on his chin and looked him in the eyes. "I'm trying it out. Maybe it's okay. Don't rush me."

Data shook his head. "Never." He put his arms under her back and held her up, gathering her close in a hug. She put her chin over his shoulder and rubbed her cheek against his. "We should go back," he said, after a long moment.

"I know." She let him go and he stepped back. She hopped down from the table. "Do I look okay?"

"Your dress is crushed," he noted.

She smoothed her hands down the silk skirt. "Is it really noticeable?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Pssht. I don't care. Nothing I can do about it, anyway." She leaned one hand on his shoulder.

He made final adjustments to his tuxedo and presented himself for her inspection. "Do I look 'okay'?"

"You look better than okay. You look wonderful."

"Then, shall we?" Data put one hand on Tasha's bare back and picked her up with the other.

She linked her hands behind his neck. "Or we could go back to my quarters." He gave her a reproving look. "Just kidding. Let's go back to the holodeck. Maybe I could say I got in a fight. Or I had to scale a wall."

"Computer: release door lock." Data carried Tasha into the corridor.

"Or maybe we shouldn't say anything at all," she wound up.

"I believe that would be best," Data replied.

They went through the empty corridor together, back to holodeck one.

-End-

* * *

><p>AN: Woohoo! My first long-form fan fic is done, but there are lots more stories to be told in this vein. I'm so grateful to have found this creative outlet and the super cool community that is fanfictiondotnet. I cannot thank you enough for reading, and I'm especially thankful to the readers who reviewed and PMed and helped me stay on target. There were so many days when I was baffled by a transition or a motivation or had some other trouble with a chapter, and bam! someone would write and give me just the key I needed to unlock a scene. It's one thing to plot out a story, and it's another to get from A to B to C to Z with believability. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorite-ed, but especially to Sands12, Trance47, Grayroots, Kendrawhisp, ScarletWitch0, and Jojobevco, for being insightful, specific, picky, and inspiring. And a huge up-top high-five to BatMonkey81 for obsessing about these characters as much as I do and engaging in a dialogue that helped me suss out their interactions.

While fan fiction is inherently creative work based on a world to which someone else holds the intellectual rights, I want to acknowledge other sources that I relied on for this story besides the primary source of ST: TNG episodes and movies:

_The Computers of Star Trek_ Lois Gresh and Robert Weinberg

_The Physics of Star Trek_ Lawrence M. Krauss

_The Star Trek Chronology_ Michael and Denise Okuda

_The Star Trek Encyclopedia_ Michael and Denise Okuda

_The Next Generation Companion_ Larry Nemececk

_ST: TNG The Continuing Mission_ Judith and Garfield Reeves Stevens

_Star Trek NCC-1701D Blueprints_ Rick Sternbach

_ST: TNG Technical Manual_ Rick Sternbach and Michael Okuda

Memory Alpha

Trek Core (thank goodness for screencaps!)

I hope you check out my other stories as I crank 'em out. Keep reading, and keep reviewing!

- CityDurl


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